


Pandemonium

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst and Humor, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Dark Angel Samandriel, Dark Castiel, Dark Dean Winchester, Demon Blood Addiction, Evil Sam Winchester, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Foreplay, Group Sex, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Rough Sex, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Sass, Serial Killer Dean, Sexual Content, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Tension, Soulless Sam Winchester, Torture, War, and by psychic bondage i mean instead of ropes and gags you've got demonic powers instead, like all of their backstories are real tragic, psychic bondage, tragic backstory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:54:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Civil and Uncivil wars are a- brewing in Hell, Heaven and Earth alike; the end is just about nigh. Wreaking havoc in these risky times are "One of the most dangerous killers in existence and Hell's very own prize abomination"<br/>Now throw in a few twisted angels, murder, mayhem, and a dash of naughty, I'd say..<br/>you've got yourself panDEMONium<br/>haha get it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ready?

**Author's Note:**

> I tagged this as soulless Sam. For the purposes of my story, he is not actually soulless, but he acts like his soulless self. Because he is an evil little shit. This is unbeta'd so ..NOW YOU KNOW  
> Thank you and goodnight

"Go to Hell, Winchester" Tom spits, face contorted with pain and hatred and fear. He reaches one bloody hand out to the brick wall behind him, in an attempt to steady himself; the other hand clutches at the shattered remains of his knee. He is literally backed into a corner, nowhere to turn. 

"Your brother's already there, waiting for you. He's a corpse, and you're next. They will find you, you sick fuck, and you'll pay"

Dean smiles wryly. Is that so?

He empties the contents of his revolver into Tom's brain.

***

"Sorry, what was that? I didn't quite ca-"

The man strikes out at Sam Winchester (who is decidedly not a corpse), cutting him off with a hard punch to the face, just below the eye.

Sam lets out a long, taunting laugh, with brief pauses to cough blood up onto his chest.

_I could do this all day._

_  
_Well, technically he has been doing this all day. Or night. Whatever. Time sure does fly when you're being tortured.

So far he's down four fingernails, his shirt, and a delicious amount of blood.

Somewhere along the line he's also gained: at least three broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, bruising everywhere, and possible wrist fractures.

He's not too sure about the wrists, considering they're chained tightly together behind the chair he's bound him to.

Super kinky.

"Just tell us. Tell us, you satanic piece of shit" the man hisses, voice tainted with a rising desperation.

The room is poorly lit with shitty, malfunctioning fluorescent lights. Cold. Cracked walls, corners coated with decay. Probably in the basement of some abandoned factory.

A cockroach scuttles through a hole in the ceiling. 

The fresh cut from Sam's lip trickles liquid into his mouth, warm and metallic-tasting. He spits it out, and flicks his eyes up at his interrogator.

"You know what, Viktor? I'll tell you everything you want to know, but you've got to stop teasing me like this. You get all rough and dominant and I swear my dick gets a little harder every time. So if you want me to speak, you just need to get down on those rickety knees of yours and suck my massive c-"

Sam doesn't stop laughing, not even when they start hooking him up to wires for electric shock.

***

"What the hell is a 'Winchester'?" Zachariah sneers incredulously. Honestly, do people have nothing better to do with their time than to waste his? He slowly gets up from his desk to pour himself another glass of bourbon, a habit he picked up from his vessel. 

Castiel chuckles darkly. "Essentially everyone's worst nightmare" 

His fingers lightly brush the edge of Zachariah's desk. He cocks a vibrant blue eye up at the other angel, expression sly.

"One of those most dangerous killers in existence and Hell's very own prize abomination, both with good reason to see you dead."

Zachariah smirks. "What, you think I'm worried? Sorry soldier, but even without my entire fucking garrison of bodyguards, I think I could handle a hellspawn and a deranged hunter."

"True," Castiel tilts his head in acknowledgement. He pauses, fingers still lingering on the oakwood of the desk, then leans forward suddenly.

"But can you handle me?"

Zachariah doesn't respond. Probably because he has an angel blade sunk into his chest.

Castiel retrieves his weapon from the other angel's corpse, stepping over the ashy imprint of wings scorched onto the carpet.

He's gone long before security tumbles in to investigate.

***

"Any luck?" 

Walker sighs. " 'George' let his meatsuit take over, so now we've got a scared freelance journalist wondering why he's chained to an operating table. I knocked him out, beats explaining he's a demonpuppet. And that she-devil is a piece of work, i ain't never heard such language in my life. She kept screeching on about how I should sic her on the Winchester, how he's set about ruining her precious Hell. She says she'll flay me alive if I don't let her, seems like everyone is out to get that boy. I had to dunk her head in holy water to shut her up. I hear another word about how she's going to rip his dick off and tear his eyes out, hell, I might just let her"

The good news is, Hell's civil war is all but confirmed. But..

"What about Sam Winchester?"

It's the question they're all waiting for.

Viktor grimaces.

"He's getting more restless, and he clearly wants out. But so far he isn't even close to breaking. I mean, the freak is practically enjoying himself"

He rubs his temples, clearly worn out from his shift of being sassed at for hours at a time.

The small, morose group of hunters assembled in the lobby of the abandoned hospital groan collectively. It's been over two days, time is running out. They  _need_ intel, and their most important source of information is just about as uncooperative as you could expect from a Winchester.

 "He might be stringing us along, you know" Annie points out. "How can we be sure he actually knows anything? Even if he does, he's clearly not going to tell us anytime soon, so I say we just save ourselves and the world a lot of grief and just end him"

Gordon Walker frowns. "No, he knows. You heard that first demon, back on Thursday. If anyone knows what the hell is going on, it's Sam Winchester. And everyone's got their breaking point. He's human, isn't he?"

Viktor isn't so sure about that. All that time spent with Sam, he could tell he was in severe pain. But he had never seen anyone keep up such an arrogant, nonchalant demeanour. It was almost as though he was toying with them. Maybe Annie is right... 

They had to stop giving him electric shock, because after every genuine scream of pain he would start moaning "Oh, Viktor you dirty dog"

"But don't you see?"

Everyone turns to Alfred in surprise. The quiet young man had barely said a word since they saved him from a mass demon attack two weeks ago. As he was adept with firearms ("I was in the military" he explained), slightly knowledgeable in things that go bump in the night ("My family, they knew about demons and ghosts, but I always tried to stay out of that kind of life") and alone in the world (just like the rest of them), he fit right in. He remained with the group since then, and is valuable as a guard and for recon: silent, calm, dedicated to the cause. They have all grown a little fond of him, but they aren't used to him offering any input. 

"He's not human"

"What"

"He's not technically human. So you can't expect ordinary interrogation techniques to work on him, right?"

"We've  _tried_ holy water, silver, iron, salt, all the usual shit, it didn't work, nothing works on hi-"

"That's not what I mean. He's been to Hell and back, and from what I hear, Hell doesn't provide your run of the mill thumbscrew torture. The only thing that could get through to him would be something _supernatural_ "

Walker's eyes narrow slightly. "What are you suggesting?"

Alfred bites his lip and looks down, almost coyly.

"I'm suggesting a specialist. And I think we all know where to find one"

Silence falls upon the six other hunters. Desperate times...

***

Dean can barely remember the past anymore. At what point did he realize that humanity was just as disgusting as all the night crawlers and dead things that sleep in your closet and eat you alive, he isn't sure. Hell may have had something to do with it, but there is so much more. The emptiness, the loathing of himself and of everything around him created something new, something dark and relentless, the ultimate predator. For a long time he hunted humans for money and monsters for release, the need to kill beating in him like some primal bloodlust. 

But now he has a mission. A care. 

One little spark is all it took, and he'll make sure it all goes down in flames.

***

Alfred returns: everything is clear. It's time.

Jo is not happy with this plan. At all. A fucking demon? Seriously?? 

???!!!??? ??? !!! ???!?!!?!!

But the others slowly assented. Alfred has a point: if anyone could get through to Winchester, it would be a demon.

"Relax" Walker assured her. 

"When she gets us what we need, we'll shiv her demonic ass anyways"

They soaked her in a bathtub full of salted holy water for half an hour, to indicate that no one is even in the vicinity of fucking around.

A promise to torture the notorious Sam Winchester before sending her straight back to Hell. She almost cries at the opportunity. No one is comfortable.

The others all agreed that, given their time pressure, this was the only thing that could work.

Walker and Jo escort the she-devil (Mary HB, she insists they call her) and make their way down to the makeshift cell. Alfred follows them, spray-painting demon traps on the ceiling, walls, and floor in case Mary tries something cute. Jo grips the chains holding the demon tightly.

Jo shivers involuntarily, silently damning the flickering lights. 

Ordinarily, creepy shit like this wouldn't bother her. Hell, it's her job _not_ to be afraid of the things living in the dark: she's a monster-killer by profession, for fuck's sake. But tonight, she can't shake off the unsettling feeling festering in her stomach. Sam Winchester is a whole new level of frightening.

"Through here" Walker leads them down a long hallway. The walls still have bulletin boards, posters on the importance of handwashing and diagrams of the human nervous system.

The trio side steps a mysterious rusty stain on the floor tiles to reach the room. Walker unlocks the metal bar and slides the door open, and Jo keeps her holy water-drenched knife close to Mary's neck.

Sam glances up as they walk in, and for the briefest fraction of a second a strange expression flickers across his face.

He revives his standard smirk before Jo can tell what emotion overcame him so involuntarily.

"Well, well" Mary drawls, grinning savagely at the prisoner. Unsure of what to do next, Jo releases her grip from Mary's chains but maintains steady hold of her knife.

"I'll be damned"

Jo notes that Sam's jaw clenches with apparent tension.

"You little bitch" The malice in his eyes is no longer playful.

What the hell? Jo throws a quick glance at Walker, but he doesn't appear to have noticed anything strange in Sam's demeanour. He's busy keeping a watchful eye on Mary as she makes her way towards the chair.  

The demon bites her lip and drags a fingernail down Sam's chest.

"Guess what?" she hisses, pressing herself closer to him.

"I get to play with you and then they let me go home. I think it's Christmas."

She extends a chained hand out, and Walker reluctantly gives her a knife. She pushes the tip into a fresh wound, twisting the metal deep between his ribs. 

"Really? _Really?_ " Sam's voice remains cool and mocking, but his eyes are narrowed and he's stopped smiling.

Walker and Jo stare, blood turned to ice as their prisoner lets out a viscious scream.

Maybe this plan wasn't so bad after all...

***

The bar is fairly crowded tonight. Dean pushes his way through, grazing past the civillians with familiar ease. Home sweet home.

For the first time in weeks, he allows himself to relax. He takes down a whiskey like  water, and orders another, tapping his fingers contentedly as he waits.

Close by, some douchebag is trying to engage a gorgeous redhead in conversation. She looks straight at Dean the whole time, smiling wide. Her fingers tracing the deep neckline of her slinky black dress. Dean smiles back, winking knowingly. Tonight is going to be a good night. He drains his second whiskey and stands up to step his game when 

Out of the corner of his eye, he senses  _it._

 _  
_The same glimmer that's been haunting him for weeks now. Always lingering on the edge of his consciousness, a prickly sensation on the back of his neck like he is being watched. Not spied on. He's dealt with stalkers and predators and detectives before, no problem. But watched, on a greater scale. Like his soul is being scrutinized.

He pays his tab and hastily exits the building, making his way to the nearest ally. Fuck this game.

If he wasn't a seasoned killer, his heart would be pounding, his hands trembling. He quickens his pace, walking until he knows no one can see.

Revolver cocked, aimed and ready to shoot whoever or WHATever the fuck has been tracking him this entire time he turns and then

for a whisper of a second, his heart stops.

"Hello Dean"

***

It all happened so quickly. One minute, Mary is doing her job, and well to say the least. It seems that Sam Winchester is finally about to break.

And suddenly, she takes the knife, slashes her own arm heavily, and thrusts her bleeding flesh into Sam's mouth.

Before Jo and Walker can react, they are thrown against the wall by some unseen force, rendered immobile. The shackles on Mary slide off her hands, and the restraints on Sam Winchester fall to the ground. He gets up slowly, leaning on his prison-chair for support. 

"Goddamnit, Meg, I actually need that hand"

Mary..Meg?... grins up at her "victim" and punches him hard in the arm. "Glad to have you back, brother"

"She's adopted" Sam assures the two terrified and confused hunters he's psychically pinned to the wall.

Meg rolls her eyes. "So are you, princesss. And don't complain, I know you enjoyed it"

Jo cannot believe how stupid they all were. She frantically struggles against her invisible restraints. The others need to be warned.  _son of a bitch_

Sam turns to her as though he can hear her thoughts, and laughs, eyes sparkling with a frightening fire. 

"See you soon, lovers. Thank you for your hospitality and information." He winks at Walker. "Tell Viktor I send my regards"

He snaps his fingers and their heads smash against the wall, knocking them out.

Meg and Sam limp their way up to the lobby. There they find Samandriel holding his assault rifle, surrounded by the bodies (unconscious..or dead? whatever, good work anyways) of the reamaining group of hunters.

"Nice work,  _Alfred"_ Meg smirks at the angel. "And you didn't even use your mojo." 

She takes the spray can from him and lets him rest, crossing out all the angel warding she can find. The devil traps have all been taken care of.

The two Sams grin at eachother. So much badass to do, so little time.

"So, you think we're ready?"

"Fuck yeah"

***

 

 

 


	2. Set?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samandriel's sweet ass driving skills and a slowly but surely thickening plot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not very canon, I hope that is alright with you folk

"Well, that went a lot better tha- JESUS MOTHERFUCKING CHRIST SAMANDRIELWHOE EVEN TAUGHT YOU TO DRIVE?"

Sam gingerly crawls back into his seat (his mostly Meg- inflicted wounds are still smarting, and the justification of Samandriel's lack of driver's license is not really helping).

Samandriel frowns. "You did"

Travelling via angel teleportation express would make everyone's lives a lot easier, but they are trying to stay as covert as possible. This territory is particularly angel-ridden (they're not sure why yet), so best keep Samandriel's mojo on the down low for now.  

Samandriel doesn't mind. Driving's kind of like flying, except slower and he still isn't sure about the purpose of signaling.

"Hey, Steve McQueen, do you mind pulling over? I gotta make a call"

Before Sam has time to prepare himself, his face is slammed into the back of Meg's seat.

The Jeep screeches to a halt, bumping into an admittedly scary looking man changing his tire on the shoulder of the highway.

Samandriel rolls down the window.

"What the fuck do y-"

the  angry protest is cut short by the edge of Meg's dagger fit right under the man's adam's apple. She's leaning over the holy driver, holding an ornate bowl in her other hand. Samandriel keeps the man up against the window so the blood spurting from his neck falls into the bowl and not the upholstery. After the man stops gurgling, they push him away, into the gravel.

"Are you calli-" Sam tries to say before he's  thrown against the back seat as Samandriel smites the accelerator and speeds off into the night.

Meg's witch-phone whispers demonically, the fresh blood spiking in response to her call.

"Mhmm. Yep." she rolls her eyes. "yes, _sir_ "

"Everything according to plan...yeah... No, they had angel proofing, so he had to take them out civi-style...yeah,yeah, our very own halo...most of the hunter militia...at least three factions....mhm...yeah we're making our way North, shouldn't take more than a few days...[Meg is silent for a pause, eyes steely as the blood hisses].. yeah he's fine, sir...no, he's got a few days before withdrawal..yes, he's fine reall....alright oka-[gritted teeth] Yes, I am also fine, father, thanks for asking" Meg rolls her eyes at the bowl, which is now silent and still.

She leans back in her seat, craning her head to flash Sam a ~~jealous~~ menacing glare.

"But at least our precious wonderboy is safe and sound, yippee"

Sam grimaces back at her. Two fathers, both tyrants with militant expectations and ideals that clash with his own, and still, he somehow always ends up being the favoured child. Ah well, at least Azazel has a sense of humour..

His thoughts are interrupted by Samandriel's inability to stay in his goddamn lane.

"You know, they put that line there for a reason, "

"Get off my dick" Samandriel snaps, swerving violently to avoid getting hit by an oncoming semi.

"I'm just saying, there is this thing called Not Driving Like A Complete Asshole and I think we would all benefit if you tried it out-"

"Not another word, Winchester. You shut the fuck up or so help me Dad I am turning this car around"

Meg rolls her eyes and slips headphones into her ears.

***

"So you've been tracking me for three weeks. That is so like you, Cas"

Back at the bar, Dean glares at the trench-coated angel. The building has gotten much more crowded; he can't find the redhead from before.

Castiel is silent for a moment, watching Dean angstily sip away at his whiskey.

"Have you heard from your brother lately?"

"No" Dean turns his face away.

Pause

"You want to cut the small talk and tell me what the Hell's going on?"

He drains the glass and orders another. His already soured mood just dropped tenfold after the mention of Sam.

Castiel smiles softly.

"Look, Dean," he leans closer, gravelly voice low and earnest.

"You have got your mission, and I mine. You have been a good friend to me, and I feel that it is time I return the favour. I have a proposition you might like to hear."

Dean's expression remains stony, mouth turned down in a slight frown. He flashes a steely green stare at Cas.

"After all that's happened, all that crap in the past, and after all this shit that's going down right now, you honestly expect me to trust you?"

Castiel's smile widens by a whisper of a fraction.

"I do"

Dean narrows his eyes, but before he can respond, Castiel leans forward much closer, until his hand is on the other man's shoulder and his lips are almost brushing Dean's ear and he murmurs, soft as a kiss, the exact reason why.

The rest of the bar is oblivious to the exchange, civilians chattering, drinking, the clatter of pool balls and none of them know.

Castiel pulls away to see Dean grinning right back at him. If anyone were paying close attention, they would notice Castiel's shoulders relax slightly, as though in relief.

"Man, is it good to have you back" Dean's laughing now and is finding it hard to stop. His eyes have, for the moment, lost their hollow look.

***

Jo's head still hurts.

She remembers waking up in the Winchester-devoid cell, Walker still unconscious beside her.

She remembers walking through the halls, all demon and angel warding sigils slashed and voided, stomach reeling with cold, confused panic. How?

Her fellow hunters, all lying bloody in the lobby. Oh god how could they have been so stupid..

Viktor and Walter, dead. Annie with a bullet wound through her arm, but still breathing, still alive. Walker downstairs, one two three four five...

Where's Alfred?

Oh shit.

Fucking traitor.

Or...hostage?

A moment, then she remembered, not just demon sigils. The angel ones were crossed out as well.

So either some mook managed to find them here or

She remembers grasping her aching head in her hands, to steady herself for just a moment.

She remembers sinking to the floor and sobbing, bitter tears trailing down her face because she knows now,

just how fucked they really are.

***

"Room for two"

The motel clerk glances up from his novel. Clearly not up enough; he tilts his head back painfully far, barely meeting the eyes of the horror standing in front of the lobby desk.

Beside the seven feet of sheer muscle and plaid is a much smaller woman with dark, messy hair.

The clerk's spidey senses are tingling hard. He's used to having sketchy patrons, one night stands, drug deals, affairs, potential felons, whatever. What flavour of fucked up are these two?

 He forces a smile and bumbles about trying to find them a key. They stare back at him with identical expressions, the corner of their mouths turned up in a smirk, eyes dripping with that menacing shade of sass.

Sibling psychopaths or depraved lovers?

Either way, he hopes they don't get too much blood in the floor.

***

As soon as Samandriel flutters into the newly booked motel room, he punches Sam Winchester in the throat.

No one likes a back seat driver.

No one.

***

"Oh here we go..."

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise there will be some actual plot developments next time, I just wanted to lay out the foundations of the relationships.  
> I tagged a bunch of relationships forth/past coming but I want you to know that the Meg/Sam/Samandriel brot3 is complicated and idk you'll sEE YOU SHALL SEE  
> BLESS YOU  
> I HAVE TWO MIDTERMS NEXT WEEK LOL BUT I SPEND MY TIME DOING THIS


	3. WHOAH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interrogations. Little bits of the past are revealed. And, well..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I'm supposed to warn you every time that I get a little gory, but here you have it!  
> Again: also not very canon.  
> Also: Samandriel's vessel is still Alfie, but if you imagined Alfie with hunter clothes ie.) plaid

*Some nights, if the hush of whiskey can drown out the rest of the noise in his head, he thinks about it. For a second.

Dean bursts out of the church, limping heavily in a crippled half jog towards the Impala. He wipes his forehead, hand now slick with blood.

" _Son of a bitch..."_

 _  
_*Just one brief, alcohol tainted second. The past. Sam. Hell. The change. For Sam, there wasn't much of a change. People never noticed at first, never looked past the sad puppy eyes and the gentle hands; even Dean couldn't, not for a long time. But Sam had probably always been an evil little shit. Before the powers, before that demon bitch, before his VIP tour in The Pit (even demons shudder at the classic horror story "Sam Winchester's Special Hell"), the baby brother had always been at least a little..... _wrong._ Not Dean. One hazy, fleeting second, Dean knows what he used to be.

Dean fumbles with the keys, grabbing what he needs from the trunk. No flash of white from the church yet: he's not sure if that's good or bad. His head is still spinning hard, vision clouded, but he drags himself back to the church doors.

*When Castiel had raised his sorry ass from perdition, he was broken. A year later, he was reborn. Metamorphosis complete. The thrill of the hunt he always harboured, turned to bloodlust and newfound sadism.

Half of the pews are torn apart; stained glass fragments littered on the floor. The two angels are still fighting; Castiel with slight advantage. He attacks his opponent with savage force, ever the skilled warrior. The other angel fights back well enough to hold her ground, parring the blows of his angel blade as best she can. Dean crawls his way around the church, working as quickly as he can.

*He's not sure if he misses the old...the young Dean Winchester, with all his youth and love and pain. It doesn't matter, the second's up. Thoughts repressed, eyes blank.

  
"Hey, angelface" Dean yells from the entrance of the church. The battle stops for a fraction. Castiel is by Dean's side the exact moment the lit match hits the ground. The other angel is not so lucky.

"Let's talk"

***

"You know, from all I've heard about the great Sam Winchester, I've gotta say, you seem a little..unimpressive. No offense."

Sam's face is pale and drawn with illness, eyes circled with dark fatigue. He is leaning against the wall, tremoring. The demon smirks, wiggling his wrists within their confines. 

The corners of Sam's mouth twitch up slightly. His fingers lightly play along the handle of his knife.

Meg, who is pacing along the edge of the demon trap, laughs.

"He's right, Sammy, you don't look like much. Maybe you should consider taking some vitamins, keep you healthy"

The demon rolls his eyes, clattering his chair back and forth restlessly.

"Whatever that means. Ooh my, you want to tell me how you managed to convince the divine to join in on your little shenanigans?"

The newly arrived Samandriel casts a stricken glance at Meg.

"A gang of Crowley's butt monkeys came to play" Meg holds up an engraved knife [a relic from Sam's ex], still dripping with the blood of its latest kills.

Samandriel looks back at the survivor, who is staring at him with keen interest.

"What, gates too pearly for you? Although," the demon's face twists into a grin

"I've heard some stories. Spirit in the Sky is MIA, Michael in the Pit [he knods at Sam with something akin to respect]. Some Naomi is running things n-oh..mommy troubles, is it?"

At the mention of Naomi's name, Samandriel flinches unintentionally.

"That explains it. Yeah, I've heard mommy doesn't go too easy on disobedient little soldiers. I guess you must have been extra bad"

Sam and Meg exchange a glance; Meg tosses him Ruby's knife.

"Oh, is it that time now? Might as well just kill me now, you can't do anything to me worse than Crowley if he finds out I ratted"

Meg laughs, hard. "Oh sweetheart, you don't need to say a word"

The demon's sneer falters, and confusion flickers through his black eyes.

"What the f-"

Ruby's knife plunges through his shoulder. A non-fatal stab, enough to shut him up for a moment.

His real concern is the ordinary knife, slashing deep into his throat, cold metal slicing his meatsuit's artery clean.

Sam presses his lips against the split skin, greedily lapping up warm, gushing blood.

It's about time he took his vitamins.

***

After Annie regained consciousness, she confirmed: yes, that damn Alfred was an angel in disguise. Son of a fucking bitch..

Why the  _fuck_ is an angel hooked up with hellspawn?

The angels are causing a little discomfort in hunters wordwide (hence the warding sigils), but is there reason to believe that the God Squad is up to more sinister things?

How could they have fallen for that stupid, stupid idea?

To be fair, he had a demon killing knife and was truly adorable. Jo angrily makes not never to allow her heart to melt like that again.

At least they know that Hell is at war. Meg and Sam had killed George, leaving his guts spread out across his cell.

Apparantly someone was a Crowley supporter...

Why were they spared? Gordon, Jo...Winchester could have easily ended them, and yet he let them live.

Why. WHY?

Jo rubs her forehead against the wall in distress, running over the same questions.

She, Annie, and Gordon had relocated ro Rufus's cabin.

One more question. The worst question. The only question.

What now?

***

Revved up on seven pints of demon blood, Sam rips his shirt off, telekinetically throws open the door, sprints out the motel, smashes a brick into the pavement and screams. He then proceeds to drive into town. SoooOOoooO ready for some seriously supernatural sex. 

A swanky little joint called Salem's. Very witchy. Sam slips into a dress shirt and tie.

Tonight is going to be a fun night.

***

Dean shakes his newly healed head experimentally. 

"Thanks, Cas" he exhales, kicking his leg up, just to make sure. He had forgotten the benefits of having an angel b.....uddy. 

Or a buddy in general. Like, is it just Dean or has Castiel gotten exceptionally more badass since he started a war in Heaven?

Damn.

The angel spins two blades in his hand, staring over the fire at Rachael.

"Naomi is the only one who can protect us from him, why are you trying to sabotage what is in all our best interests? You're collaborating with..with mud monkeys, killing your own kind." Rachael spits, glaring at Castiel through the flames.

Castiel lets out a dark chuckle. 

"Naomi? I admire your loyalty, sister, though it may be misplaced"

He paces closer to the ring of holy fire.

"I'd like to know what Naomi knows about me"

Rachael scoffs incredulously. 

Castiel casts Dean a glance, as though saying,  _Well, I tried_

 _  
_"Thought you might feel that way. Dean?"

He hands Dean one of the angel blades

"My pleasure"

***

Samandriel flutters into the motel room to find a pretty blonde handcuffed to the radiator. A piece of cloth is wrapped around her mouth as a gag, so she (obviously) says nothing as Samandriel walks closer to investigate, and only regards him with great interest as she squirms against her restraints. Her little black dress rides up as she plants her heels against the wall.

Meg slips out of the bathroom, running a hand through her messy hair.

"Another...butt monkey come to play?" Samandriel inquires, genuinely confused.

Meg looks up, surprised to find the angel in the room, then laughs.

"Pretty much. None of us actually sleep, and it would be a shame to spend money on a room if I'm not going to redecorate it." she smirks.

"Plus Wonderboy is going to be out past his bedtime. My turn to have a friend over"

The blonde growls against her gag. 

"I know, he's cute, Vivian, but he _is_ holier than thou.."

Meg smiles sadistically at Samandriel, who is only on the brink of understanding exactly what is ...

The blonde throws her head back and winks at him.

Oh.

Oh..

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's play a game called you give me feedback so I can improve your general reading experience. like seriously give me tips or something please for the love of chuck  
> Also that was a cliffie.  
> ALSO HAS ANYONE NOTICED ABOUT THE TITLE?  
> panDEMONium  
> right???  
> right???????  
> k whatever i'm hilarious


	4. I mean, GO!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean make a little progress in their mission; one fragment of Sam's past catches up to him, and Meg is up to some shenanigans or other  
> Basically: foreplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT SO  
> Warning: I have never ever written smut before so apologies if it is bad and also I guess I should warn you that this chapter is a little smutty (foreplay) and there is a teensy bit of blood so yes I think it is in order that I let you know these things. Sorry about the hiatus, it will so happen again. Also very little plot this chapter and no Jo today.

"Are we having a good time?"

Sam wills himself to unclench his jaw and relax the tension that has formed in every portion of his body, and turns slowly, knowing full well that no amount of liquor or blood can save him now.

Because he knows, before looking. Of course he knows. The faint lisp, the steady heartbeat, and that oh-so familiar smell...

_Fuck. Fucked. I am fucked._

_This is so typical of my goddamn life_.

It's like one minute, Sam is leaning against the bar of Salem's, nonchalantly sipping whiskey and admiring the occult, well dressed patrons stirring in the lounge. (A cute little necromenacer to his right has been shooting him glances for a promising amount of time)He's earned a break, what with Azazel's precious mission and the war and Meg's bullshit. So he enjoys himself quietly, revelling in the delicious, toxic rush of his high.

Naturally, it all goes to shit.

"I was" Sam replies coolly, face expressionless. He watches the corner of her lips turn up in her usual sinister, shit eating smirk.

_Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck_

_  
_"What are you doing here, Ruby?"

"Old habits die hard," she leans closer to him, smile widening. She leans in, scanning his pupils.

"I can see you already know that"

She's the worst kind of poison, the vilest bitch, every horrid adjective imaginable. Damnit, why didn't he just stay at home and read some Dickens. 

Ugh.

"You can act angry all you want, Sam. But I know what you need" 

One hand lingers on Sam's thigh, the other brushing the knuckles of his clenched fist. He can feel warm breath against his neck as she continues whispering her bullshit.

Sam wants so badly to kill her, to burn her twisted soul and fling her skeevy ass back into the deepest pits in Hell. Somewhere they'll fry her extra crispy.

Her hand is in dangerous territory now, and she's still murmuring her poison words into his ear. 

"You know?"

He wants to flay her alive, rip the skin of her meatsuit off until there's nothing left but sulfur and bitch.

She slips off the stool, and reaches her hand out.

Ever the junkie, Sam wraps his fingers around hers. Another hit.

Old habits die hard.

***

Castiel cannot help but notice how adept Dean is with his hands.

The way that boy handles an angel blade is positively provocative. Dean has Rachael screaming out valuable confessions in such short time that Castiel is almost dissappointed when the interrogation is over. 

"That's enough, Dean" Castiel nods approvingly at Dean, who winks in return. Oh how he missed this...

Castiel crouches next to his broken and bloodied sister, and gently brushes his hand along her wounds. Rachael's pained eyes grow wide with confusion as Castiel heals her, caressing her with light. 

"Thank you for your help, Rachael. Although you may not see it now, you have done no wrong. I am sorry it had to come to this, but there was no other way. You are free to go; your garrison needs you."

Ever more rattled, Rachael watches Castiel slowly get up to leave. With surprising force, she grabs his hand and pulls him back down to her level.

Castiel holds a hand out to stay Dean, who is already on his feet, angel blade poised protectively. Cas has hold of the situation. He turns back to Rachael.

The two angels lock eyes for a moment. Castiel watches his sister's faith crumble from her eyes, sees denial fade out to be replaced with terrified realization. She knows that what happened to Samandriel and the like will happen to her. Now that the truth is out, freedom would be her destruction.

"You can still join us, Rachael. We protect our own, and this fight is not so depraved as Naomi and the others would have you think."

Castiel sees his offer is fruitless.  Rachael's acceptance of truth has broken her far more than Dean's handiwork, but her repulsion against Castiel's crusade is burning too strong. There is no win: endure the same agony as baby brother, demoralize herself by uniting with the notorious Castiel, or...

She wraps her weak fingers around Castiel's blade hand and presses the angelic metal against her chest.

Castiel is not without mercy: a flash of white and his sister's corpse lies still in the ashes of her wings.

He picks himself up, wiping his blade on the end of his trenchcoat. 

Something like regret stirs within him, but he pushes it back. They learned much of value today, and Rachael's disillusionment proved that loyalty could sway. Naomi is incredibly clever, and Castiel is well aware of how well she hides her white room brainwashing tyranny. But the seed of doubt is floating around, and opportunity is swelling like-

Dean echoes his thoughts "Someone is definitely not getting the Mother of the Year award. Allies might not actually be that hard to come by"

The hunter puts an arm around his comrade's shoulder, laughing lightly.

"Things are looking up, hey Thursday? A little celebration wouldn't hurt.."

Castiel leans his weight against him, grateful for the loyalty and the company and the help. 

A little celebration is most definitely in order.

***

 Face pale and drawn, eyes wide with horror, Samandriel's recoil is so intense that Meg's resolve almost falters. To be perfectly honest, deep within the charred crevices of her blackened and sickly heart, she had hoped she had found a new Clarence. However, Samandriel evidently is not interested in ordering pizza of any sort; he slumps against the hotel room wall, frowning.

Fine. Whatever. Who needs the damn prudey halo when she has Vivian. (Not so much a devil worshipper as she is an insatiable bundle of black magic.)

Samandriel stays very still, watching Meg slowly let the lithe blonde out of her wristcuffs. 

In less than a heartbeat, Vivian rips off her gag and begins biting the delicate flesh above Meg's collarbone. Her hands frantically tear at the demon's shirt, and she lifts Meg's black top up to nip at the exposed skin underneath. Meg threads her fingers through the blonde's hair, and lifts her head up forcefully until their lips almost touch. She hesitates for a moment, then pulls her face in and kisses her hard, until she can taste the copper tinge of blood. With equal force, Vivian pulls Meg on top of her writhing body in one fluid motion and tears her top off completely. She cups the demon's breasts with greedy hands, circling the nipples with her thumbs. Meg chokes back a moan and continues to grind herself against the fiesty body underneath. She grabs Vivian's wrists and drags her hands down her breasts, her front, to the hem of her jeans. Vivian enthusiastically tugs down the pants, and reaches her fingers up to explore the soaking cloth of Meg's panties. They haven't even made it to a bed.

Angels don't sweat.

They wouldn't even know what sweating feels like.

Samandriel thinks he just might.

***

 A night of fun and drinking and mildly Satanic sex is all Sam Winchester wanted.

Be careful what you wish for, right?

Christ, he had worked so hard to forget  _this_. The pain, the euphoria, the hatred, the bliss.

Just when he thought he could escape the snare of the fucking succubus....

They're both naked now, clothes flung unceremoniously aside. He's got her pinned up against the wall, sinking his teeth into her shoulder, drawing her sweet, poison blood like the addict he is.His  one hand gently cups her face, the other hand trails along the inside of her thighs, torturously working his fingers upwards.

Ruby digs her nails into his back with viscious desperation, gasping sharply in response to a flick of her clit. His cock is pressed against her, hard and very ready. She pulls him in, pressing his hips closer to hers until their bodies mesh together in the stark light of the dirty motel room.

Sam closes his eyes, grimacing because  he cannot distinguish between loathing and desire. With her, they always become one. 

He moves his hands to the back of her thighs and picks her up, slamming her hard into the wall; she hooks her legs around his back in response, still clawing his skin raw. One hand swipes down and squeezes his cock, twisting her fist against it until Sam twitches and the light fixture nearby shatters in reaction to his growing pleasure.

_oh god..._

***

Dean claps Cas on the back, and orders another round of drinks. The angel leans back contentedly, silently appreciating the sly glint in Dean's greeeeen green eyes.

"So, what next, Thursday? Gonna find us some recruits? Maybe a rogue cherub?"

Castiel takes the shot offered to him, and grins.

"We'll see about that tomorrow. For now, we should reap the benefits of cheap alcohol and.." Castiel's grin falters "the choir?"

A rowdy gaggle of girls is singing with applaudable confidence and alarming volume. Dean shudders slightly, and downs a shot in a vain attempt to numb out the sound.

"Alrighty, then. Next round's on you"

He flicks eyelids suddenly, reaches out to gently rustle the back of Castiel's hair.

"We're gonna have a good night"

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry if my smut is subpar, I would love some tips. Because this chapter was all foreplay, I was thinking maybe I should get really dirty in the next one but idk you tell me!


	5. PandeMOANium??

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Literally just a whole lot of slightly depraved smut. Het, then slash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY I HAVE BEEN ON HIATUS SO LONG BUT I AM BACK DID YOU MISS ME PROBABLY NOT I LOVE YOU THOUGH I HOPE YOU ENJOY
> 
> ALSO IMPORTANT WARNING: THE SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER AS FOLLOWS  
> MF (bloodplay, roughplay and dubcon. Demonic/Psychic bondage), MM(felatio) 
> 
> Samandriel/Meg/Vivian will have to wait until next time, sorry lovers

Oh fUCK YES.

Sam's fist is balled up in Ruby's messy hair, forcing her head in place as he delivers sharp nips to the front of her throat. 

The edge of pain in her uninhibited moans does nothing but encourage him to deepen the bite of his kisses, to tear her delicate neck until she's screaming with the most erotic harmony of hurt and arousal.

They are both slick with sweat and blood, their wet bodies grinding against eachother, smearing the walls with red. 

Ruby reaches a hand back to further claw at the raw skin on Sam's back, her nails already dripping with his blood, pressing hard into his flesh.

"Why don't you just do something alre-"

All it takes is a flick of his fingers and she's down, pinned to the dirty floor, unable to move. Her dark eyes flash with anger and lust as she struggles against Sam's mental bonds. A futile effort.

He smirks and kneels down beside her still form, his eyes narrowed with a sadistic glimmer. He pushes his hands against her breasts, slowly at first. Almost tenderly.

With his forefinger and thumb, he pinches both of Ruby's nipples and twists with unanticipated force. She gasps sharply, but her voice is cut off by a shake of Sam's head.

While he craves the dirty, relentless sounds of Ruby's ecstasy, Sam finds that nothing gets his cock quite so hard as this delicious form of torture. Bound and gagged, unable to do anything but submit to ultimate pleasure. All lit up with nowhere to burn, set her free and watch her blow. 

He brushes his lips against her inner thigh, then rolls his tongue up, up..until he's got mouth exactly where he wants it, sucking her clit hard, tongue flickering at an alarming pace until he could swear she's about to exorcise herself.

He let's her voice through now, and now it's nothing but vulgarity.

"you FUCKING son of a WHORE, I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD WINCHESTER YOU PIECE OF SHIT FUCK ME NOW OR I WILL DRAG YOU TO HELL"

"Already been" Sam hisses, covering her body with his own, his fingers wrapped around her wrists.

"Didn't agree with me"

He lets her loose the second his cock pushes against her wet lips, and she snaps up in that instant, seething with rage and desire, writhing against him like the succubus she is.

Sam pumps into her with extraordinary force, growling softly against her ear. They are one now, fucking with such fervour that the rest of the lights flicker out and explode, the windows shatter, the floor is cracking slightly from some external power.

Ruby's speaking in tongues now, her eyes black and demonic. She rolls over and Sam lets her ride him hard, his hands clenching the sides of her hips so tightly he draws blood.

Their skins are hot, like they are bathed in hellfire.

Jesus take the fucking wheel.

***

Somewhere in between Castiel's eleventh shot of vodka and a horrifying rendition of one of REO Speedwagon's finer ballads (performed by those god awful twins. Last thing Cas needs is his musical education tainted by the Grady girls), Dean decides it's time to flee into the night.

Without even thinking, Dean slips his hand into the angel's and drags him through the crowd, out the door.

There are still many people lingering outside the bar doors, chatting over their cigarettes. The air is thick with smoke, and Dean is just about drunk enough to bum a rollie off a kindly, wasted man sporting a Stetson.

He slips the cigarette between his lips and takes a deep drag before nudging Castiel to keep walking. Their fingers are still brushing close as they make their way down the street.

_And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might  
_

__  
  
"Cas I-"

Dean is interrupted by a sharp smash to his gut. Before he can react, he's on the ground, a flash of white and a palm descending on his forehead.

Before Dean's angelic attacker has a chance to smite him, Castiel kicks her down and plunges his blade into her heart.

The second time that day, they find themselves standing by the corpse of a sister of Castiel, breathing heavy with adrenaline (in Dean's case) and dark, throbbing grace (in Castiel's).

"The alcohol must be having an affect, I did not manage to keep her alive for interrogation" Cas shrugs bitterly, kicking the blade out of the dead angel's hand.

"Screw that, man, you saved my life. That's got to count for something"

Not so much the heroics, but the swift motions of Castiel's hands  as he took down the bitch before she had a chance to defend herself. The way he effortlessly cut through one he used to call family, the way his cold blue eyes betrayed no emotion whatsoever. 

Dean is standing close enough to Castiel for the angel to notice.

"Are you- ?"

Dean blushes and steps away, willing his erection to recede, but his eyes lock on to Castiel's and for a moment they stand there in complete silence.

The moment drags on, heavy with absolutely everything and Dean's breath catches in his throat ..

Right before Castiel sinks his teeth gently into the hunter's bottom lip.

The kiss starts out tentative, still burning with the taste of near death and uncertainty.

But the straying of hands, the fingers that knot themselves in Castiel's hair, pulling for security and something not quite understood.

The hands that slide down Dean's neck, the muscles of his back, onto that pert, desireable ass.

Dean works his lips along Castiel's jawline, then goes down, gently biting the angel's chest through his shirt, down

until he's on his knees, jeans scuffing against the dirty pavement, right next to the ashy wings of the dead she angel.

his hands slightly trembling as he tears off the belt and fully understands that

while angels in their true form may be junkless, their vessels most certainly are not.

Dean grabs Castiel's cock in his hands, running his fingers down the shaft experimentally, but hesitates.

He glances up uncertainly, wondering if Cas will be able to feel the pleasure he so desperately wants to give him

"Can you even-?"

In lieu of a spoken answer, Castiel closes his eyes and lightly runs his fingers across Dean's hair, pushing his head ever so slightly forward.

That's all the encouragement the hunter needs.

Dean rubs his tongue along the tip of Castiel's head, slowly to begin with. He teases around the edge between the head and the shaft, cupping the angel's balls in one hand and giving them a light squeeze. 

Castiel makes quiet humming noises, his wings tremoring ever so slightly.

"Dean" he whispers hoarsely, brushing the man's cheekbones with his fingers.

Dean grins, but continues his mission.

There's enough moisture now for Dean to pull the entire cock into his mouth, lips curled over his teeth, tongue twisting as he builds up a rhythmic motion, bobbing his head up and down

doing his best not to choke as the head hits the back of his throat.

Castiel's happy noises are still subdued, but he's gripping the back of Dean's head tightly, pushing his swollen cock further into the hunter's mouth. 

"Harder" he demands, and Dean obeys, sucking the head as hard as he can manage without breaking his face.

Then Dean intensifies his hold, using one hand and his mouth to bring out actual moans from Castiel's lips. With his other hand he strokes his own fully erect cock.

He continues sucking and squeezing and licking and trying to ignore Cas's sultry sighs when the angel pulls back slightly and orders

"look at me"

staring him straight in the eye just as he comes on to those gorgeous lips.

Well then.

***

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to chuck and godstiel and lucifer's daddy issues, your comments feed my spirit and I would really like it if you GAVE ME SOME TIPS OR SOMETHING??? I DON'T WRITE A LOT OF SMUT SO FEEDBACK WOULD BE ONLY THE GREATEST THING EVER


	6. Randemonium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Destiel foreplay. Exposition. The possibility of a fourway??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, first I'd like to apologize for my ridiculous updating schedule. I truly am sorry but this story is hard sometimes. I wish I could have made this chapter longer but I wanted to post something so here ya go.  
> Warning: sexual content. i mean i'm assuming that's more like a welcome basket to you people BUT HEY I DON'T KNOW OKAY MAYBE YOU'RE HERE FOR MY RIDICULOUS PLOT OR CHARMINGLY UNCHARMING CHARACTERS  
> Exposition in the middle, Destiel at the beginning.  
> Also look out for the smallest Teen Wolf reference :)

***

"Jesus" Dean gasps, unable to steady his breathing.

They've moved away from the angel stained alley way and have now broken their way into a deserted bar some few blocks away. It's late at night and the shades are drawn and Castiel has frantically thrown Dean against the wall.

"My name" Cas hisses as he rips open the buttons of Dean's classic plaid shirt

"Is Castiel"

The angel is nipping Dean's chest, all while shoving his long fingers down Dean's pants and giving the hunter's balls a good tug. Dean gives a desperate little moan, which is cut off short my Castiel's tongue finding its way into Dean's sweet, open mouth.

Castiel's got his fingers near the base of Dean's shaft, and he's rubbing quickly, stifling each groan of pleasure with a rough, bitey kiss. Dean reaches his hands out to grab a fistful of dark, messy hair. He gives a few tugs before the angel grabs his wrists and pins them against the wall.

He's grinding against Dean now, fully erect (once again), pushing his body against the hunter's own excited flesh.

Then, with sudden force, Castiel flips Dean over and kisses the back of his neck, licking each delicate freckle with frenzied lust.

He pushes Dean's ass toward his groin and holds him in place with one arm. With the other, he reaches down Dean's jeans and begins circling his thumb against the head of Dean's cock. Dean's fists claw at the wall in front of him and his eyes are closed.

Castiel releases his hold on Dean and uses both hands to force out panicked whimpers from Dean's throat. One hand squeezing along the shaft and flicking the head, the other hand palming the hunter's balls until he's rock hard and barely able to contain his little moans.

Castiel pulls back a little and Dean takes this opportunity to rip off his own pants and sink to his hands and knees. Cas takes a moment to appreciate the contours of his back, each rippled muscle, the mouthwatering sight of Dean Winchester in such a submissive position.

The angel slips off his trenchcoat and undoes the buckle of his belt, and gets down as well, his hand placed gently on the back of his neck.

He runs his nails along the hunter's back, revelling in the shivers this action produces.

"You are an exquisite creature" he murmurs, trailing his fingers down Dean's ass.

Dean rocks forward a little.

"Cas...please" he chokes out, hissing slightly as Castiel resumes stroking his shaft whilst rubbing his mysteriously moistened fingers around his hole.

Castiel smiles and continues rubbing and jerking and squeezing.

"I am sorry Dean, I couldn't hear you. What was that?"

Dean is slamming his hands against the floor .

"Cas, I'm begging you....Cas, please"

Cas runs his tongue down the back of Dean's neck, down his spine, down his tailbone, down...

"Cas. Please. Fuck me"

***

"Alright everyone," Jo slams her hands on the rickety old table, causing it to sway ominously under the force of her attention call.

Gathered round are the weary group of hunters that survive America's largest hunter faction. Rufus, Terra, Garth, Annie, Krissy, Pastor Jim, Summers, Dorothy, Kubrick, Harry, Tracy Bell. They're all lounging in the mandatory hunter garb of plaid and/or leather, clutching their respective flasks of whiskey or gin or moonshine. They turn to the blonde as she begins to speak.

"It's been a rough few months, we've lost a lot of good people. They weren't just soldiers that died fighting the good fight: they were friends, family. And we're next if we keep this crap up."

The cabin walls are covered with every kind of warding sigil and supernatural defense symbol that lore has to provide. Salt, hoodoo powder, silver linings. And it still feels unsafe.

"Here we're dealing mostly with the God Squad and Hell's finest, but in California the Argents are drowning in monsters no one's even heard of, and it's all spreading. The scene is just as ugly outside the U.S.: Bobby Singer has got contacts in Tokyo, Prague, Dublin, Katmandu, Belgrade, Brasilia, Johannesburg, Reykjavík, you name it. They're all reporting the same influx of freaks and killers. This isn't just a rise in supernatural sons of bitches anymore: we're in the crossfires of a fucking war."

There is a pause so everyone can indulge in the standard hunter remedy for the end of times. The cabin reeks of booze and anxiety.

"So here's what we know:

Sam Winchester, "[the name alone triggers an involuntary shudder amongst the hunters]

"Was a hunter. A good one, I've heard. A couple years back, the angels were starting shit so Winchester threw himself and the archangel Michael into a pit in Hell. No one knows how he did it, and no one knows how he got out, but we all know he turned out to be some special kind of fucked up. And now he's got Hell all panty-twisted and excited. There's a civil war and it's not pretty."

Who'd have thought good old John Winchester could raise such fucked up children?

"Anyways, we got him and a couple demons under interrogation a week ago. Or we thought we did. Looking back, it was kind of stupid. We all know too good to be true really is too good to be true"

True.

"They faked their way under our custody and let themselves get tortured for days before escaping. I'm still not sure _why_ so I'm assuming it's Winchester's way of getting off-"

"No"

Krissy says quietly, her ponytail swishing softly as she shakes her head.

"Winchester is smart. My father worked with him on a couple cases, back when Sam was still human. Dad called him a borderline genius, said he had a way of getting into people's minds. Winchester used to be a hunter, right? Which means he wouldn't underestimate us. If he let himself get caught, it was to get into your heads"

Jo frowns at the younger girl's words. The angel Samandriel had never asked questions about details or names or long term tactical advantages: he had always seemed pretty content to keep watch and stay ignorant, like a foot soldier. With all that warding, his mojo would've been turned off, so his purpose was only for backup in case his team couldn't break out themselves.

Next was that stupid demon bitch. No one talked to her much. No.

And Sam Winchester just received relentless bouts of horrific torture. So ... what...?

"Do you mean...are you? He CAN READ MINDS??"

Krissy shrugs. "Dad just thought he was lucky. Guess we've got a bigger problem than we thought"

Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

There is a lot of desperate groaning and rubbing of faces and drowning in alcohol. This information is not what you would call heartening.

"And the haloes?" Terra asks after everyone has had a moment to internally weep about the fate of the world.

Jo shakes her blonde head.

"We know next to nothing. Michael was replaced with some chick and it was all pretty quiet, until some rogue started shanking his own kind. Now they've got their wings all ruffled up and may actually be a bigger problem than Satan's finest"

"Great. So what do we do now?"

***

For a fleeting moment, Sam Winchester finds himself paralyzed with bemused horror. He is not an easily rattled man, but there is something about coming home from an angsty and incredibly erotic fuckfest with your ex to stumble in on a wild, interspecies threeway between your partners and some random witch. Jesus Christ what is even happening to the world anymore?

The beds have literally been torn apart, bits off mattress guts and twisted sheets. And there are chains strewn about everywhere, like BDSM confetti.

Samandriel is on his back, wings spread out in disarray. The clothes of his vessel have been stripped off and he's wearing nothing but a writhing, fiery Meg. He's pumping hard into her, and with each thrust her moans intensify. She's grasping onto the angel for dear life. From the angle Sam is standing in, he can see her back is all clawed up and her neck is basically one huge bruise.

Kneeling over the angel with her crotch in his face is a petite blonde witch (Sam can sense the aura of dark spirits around her. And she's got an upside down pentagram tramp tattooed on her shoulder.)

The blonde has on black high heels, and the ends of a chain are wrapped around her wrists. She's making some seriously unholy noises and the entire scenario is all a little too much to handle right now.

But he can't look away.

Sam clears his throat, his discomfort already passing into sly amusement.  

They're still not aware of his presence so, douche that he is, Sam reaches into his coat pocket and takes out a flask.

Of holy water.

And sprays it on Meg's exposed back.

The demon's lustful moans turn into genuine screams of rage and she snaps her head around to face him so fast that Sam can't help but think of "The Exorcist".

"What the FUCK is your problem"

"Glad to see you're all having fun without me"

The witch starts at the sound of an unfamiliar voice and falls off Samandriel's face. The angel himself has on a neutral expression.

Meg looks Sam over and her snarl is replaced by a knowing smirk.

"You reek of bitch, Winchester. "Old habits die hard" I assume?"

Sam ignores Meg and nods a greeting at the witch, who is waving her little hand at him almost demurely. Blondes aren't really Sam's type (something about old sentiments and a less heinous ex. We don't talk about it.) But she looks sultry and clever and Meg has such choice friends..

Besides, the session with Ruby has boosted him to maximum capacity. And Samandriel is blinking up at him with those pretty blue eyes. And shit, when did Meg get a nipple piercing?

 "Sam Winchester. I've heard some things about you"

Sam has his share of Satanic groupies, humans and creatures of the night alike that love the taste of darkness and power.

But the witchy blonde isn't looking at Sam's face as she's speaking and he gets the impression that this night is going to last a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, critique me you sillies! Also not sure if you guys want a four way gang bang between an angel, a demon, a witch and a boyking hellspawn so let me know! Thanks for reading :)


	7. Something Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> filler, destiel smut, Jo and Sam meet once again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Bemoley it's been a long ass time since I've updated. Hopefully you people still care enough to read this.  
> So, warning, there IS destiel smut in the second paragraph...and a gag is used, briefly. SO NOW YOU KNOW.

"Oh..oh sh-shit"

Before Sam can tag himself into the session of interspecies erotica, blood begins gushing out of his nose.

He quickly cups his hands and lets the deep red fluid drip and pool into his palms. He waits a pause before the blood spikes, initiating a call.

"Hey...yeah, fine.... no they're a little [Sam cocks an eyebrow at Meg and Samandriel, who are both watching him expectantly]..tied up right now.....mhm.....heh, probably not....k.....oh, but I thought we weren't scheduled for an-...oh? [a dark smile crawls onto his face]....Perfect. Yes....uhuh...don't worry. We've got this."

The call ends, and Sam wipes his hands on his pants. He looks up to find Samandriel fully dressed (and impeccably clean), flapping his wings while he waits. Meg (who doesn't possess angelic tidy skills) has messily thrown on her jeans and leather jacket.

Cute little Vivian has slipped back into her minute black dress, and has made her way to the door, clutching her heels in one hand. She can see these crazy kids have some business to take care of, and sees it's time to skidaddle.

"See you soon, Viv"                                                                                                                        

On her way out, Vivian makes sure to smack Sam's ass.

"Don't tell me she's one of yours?" Sam asks after the witch leaves the room.

"You claiming witch souls now?"

Meg snorts and leans her elbows back on the rickety bed.

"Yeah, right. I'm just a soldier, Sammy, we can't all be fancy succubae like your Skank Mistress. Just because Ruby is collecting souls for her coven- sorry, _harem_ \- doesn't mean I have that kind of time"

"Or allure" Sam returns with a smirk.

"Shut it, Winchester. You say you hate her face, but even after your apocalyptic break up, she's still got your willpower by the dick."

"What's the matter, Meg? Is something bothering you? ARE YOU JEAL-"

"OH HAH THAT IS PRICELESS. LIKE I WOULD-"

"Umm, guys?"

Meg and Sam [who have both unconsciously drawn their respective weapons] turn to look at a 100% done Samandriel.

_I cast myself out of heaven and rebelled against the only home I've ever known.......and I got stuck with the most childish, petulant hellspawn in existence. Brother Christ..._

"The call?"

"Right" Sam slips his open flask of holy water back into his jacket pocket. He clears his throat a little, then turns to face his comrades with a deliciously sinister expression.

"So get this"

***

"God...oh God fucking dam-"

Castiel, taking exception to such sacrilegious moanings of his Father's name, slides his hands off Dean's back. He rips off the dark blue tie from his own neck, then binds it around Dean's blaspheming mouth as a gag. The Winchester growls deeply, very much pleased with the display of dominance.

The angel takes a moment to release a little more of his grace, and apply it liberally to his already slick cock, before entering Dean Winchester again. The angelic fluid acts as more than just a satiny lubricant: Castiel is literally filling Dean with his celestial essence, bringing the sinner as closer to heaven as he can.

Castiel keeps thrusts inside of him, making sure to slide his cock against the parts of Dean that amplify the human's muffled moans. He runs his fingers all over Dean's shivering (though sweating) skin, and keeps his teeth pressed against the back of his freckled neck.

They fuck like this for a while, panting and sliding and groaning with pleasure, with Castiel's wings spread out almost against his will. He's not as vocal about his pleasure as Dean, but the odd string of Enochian curses tumble from his swollen lips. But all good things must _come_ to an end, and Castiel gives one final thrust, wrapping his arms around Dean as tightly as he can without crushing the hunter's ribcage.

They come together, in a glorious scream of light.

***

[several days later]

Jo doesn't feel all that nervous, but the handle of her knife is flicking between her fingers at such an alarming rate, she figures she must be. The small weapon is a remnant of her father's, and has been with her through all the tough, weird times in her life. Jo also finds it is a gauge of her emotions, which are apparently set at "Distinctly Antsy" right now.

She shifts positions from her place atop the steps of this town's library, as her ass is starting to get really numb. Jo pauses her knife-fiddling to check her watch for the time: 4:19 a.m. Late. Fuck.

 

She stares out into the empty street for a while, so lost in her own thoughts that she barely notices the solitary orange street light spark and flicker out. Jo's nervous hand reacts before she does, gripping the blade instinctively.

There is a sudden sound of flapping wings behind her. Before Jo can turn around, the pressure of a hand grips her shoulder and she's surrounded by painfully bright light.

_Oh fuck no_

***

Every sense feels blurry, confused. Consciousness is only just hazily grasping the danger of the situation and is that... The Doors?

"What-...."

Jo forces her eyes open.

She's in some kind of a room, badly carpeted and heavily boarded up. Abandoned house, most likely. There isn't much furniture, and from here Jo isn't able to see an exit.

"Sorry about all this," a familiar voice speaks over Jim Morrison's dusky singing. Jo's body starts, but she finds her wrists, knees and ankles are all bound to an (unfortunately) stable wooden chair.

"But it just couldn't be helped.  We've got to take necessary precautions, I'm sure you understand."

"You fucking evil son of a bitch" Jo snarls, her eyes flaring up at the tall form in front of her.

Sam Winchester presses his hand against his heart in mock hurt. He doesn't have any weapons on him, as far as Jo can see, but that's not really saying much. She wills her heart to beat less frantically against her chest, and checks the usual places for her hidden blades: no luck.

"So rude. Really, what have I done that's so bad?"

"You killed Viktor and Walter, and-" she spits, vehemently fighting against her constraints. She's seething with fury, wishing with every fibre of her being that she could kill Sam Winchester with her own two hands.

"That was actually Samandriel. And as I recall, he only did it after you people caged me like animal and tortured me for days."

Jo is so taken aback that she stops struggling against her bonds to stare at her captor. His expression is suddenly unsmiling and serious.

_Is he fucking with me?_

No, nono. Sam Winchester is a manipulative fucking piece of shit that is not capable of emotion or hurt. You're letting him get to you, Joanna. Pull your shit together, for Christ's sake.

"Bullshit. You were planning to get captured all along, for your own fucked up reasons."

Sam's mouth twists into his usual self-satisfied smile, but this time with a more playful edge.

"You're right, I let you catch me, which completely justifies the relentless torture..."

Jo's brain is enduring an epic battle between anger and confusion. How the hell is she getting out of this?

What the fuck does he want, anyways?

" You've been rounding up demons and killing people, trying to start some whackjob war while our people are dying at the hands of your cause. You think anything is going to make me feel bad for you, you psychotic hellspawn? Your pain means nothing to me."

The Winchester stares at her so intensely, that Jo isn't sure whether he's going to strike her or lick her face. She finds she cannot stop holding her breath, and she will not avert her eyes.

After a hellilshly long moment, Sam grins widely, dimples and all. He looks so fucking...pleased with that response that Jo's confusion triumphs over rage.

"You're a treat, you know that? You're going to be so, so great."

"What the actual fuck?"

"A while back, I heard a couple whispers about this little blonde hunter, the only daughter of good old Bill Harvelle. They weren't all that important, but I was intrigued"

Jo has thought of many, many different scenarios involving her and the Boy King, but this situation is getting far beyond anything she could have imagined.

"And then, in that delightful makeshift BDSM dungeon you all made for me, I got a glimpse of your head."

A chill of ice wraps itself around Jo's veins.

"I have never seen a mind so deliciously twisted and powerfully innocent. Your raw potential alone..."

Sam Winchester sighs a little, then lifts his gaze back into Jo's eyes.

"I've had a while to think about it, and when I heard you were in town, well, I saw my chance. Joanna Harvelle, I'd like to make you an offer."

***

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update. I hope you are enjoying yourselves,and please...PLEASE leave a comment, letting me know if you still like the story, or don't, or if I should fix anything? Especially with the smut, like I do not write man on man very well, but I do my darndest. Also many new pairings ahead, so beware!!! oooOOOOooooh! Thanks for reading!


	8. Bang Bang (My Baby Shot me Down)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A loooot of dialogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm trying to make up for my atrocious hiatuses by updating more often.  
> This chapter is a lot of Jo and Sam dialogue, I hope it isn't boring :(

"Come on, get dressed. We've got company"

It is a shame to have to cover up Dean's glorious back so soon, but there is no other choice. The angel is already tightening his tie around his neck.

"Jesus, Cas, could you at least clean me up? I'm fucking soaked"

Castiel merely smirks, and tosses Dean a slightly torn up shirt. Boy looks better filthy, to be honest.

There is a flash of light outside the windows, indicating heavily unwanted company.

Castiel tosses Dean a spare angel blade. This is going to be fun.

"It's been a long time, hey?" Dean licks his lips, fastening the buttons of his shirt with impressive dexterity.

The door crashes open just as Dean manages to put on his first shoe.

"We'll have plenty of time to catch up" Castiel assures him, flaring his own black wings up.

"This should get me up and going in no time"

***

What the shit...

"You... you are actually insane"

Jo doesn't remember taking anything that could have been laced with hallucinogens, but she seems to be having the weirdest trip in the history of her life. Either that, or Sam Winchester actually just invited her to join forces with him.

"That's the point, isn't it? Ah hold on,"

Sam snaps his fingers, releasing Jo's binds so they fall into a loose pile on the ground.

"Yeah, sorry about that. You're a feisty one, though, so I couldn't risk you breaking loose before I said my piece. Anyways, that's all done now: you're free to go. Ooh, and as tempting as it is, try not to gank Meg on your way out, would you?"

Free to go? Free....to....what in the fuck does he think he's doing? Is this is a trap? Is this a warning? First he asks her to team up with him, then he... what? _dismisses_ her?

Jo's instincts are screaming so many different instructions that she has no choice but to stay, frozen with uncertainty, in her seat.

Sam nods, as if her (lack of) reaction is exactly what he expected. He crosses his arms and walks a little closer towards the bemused huntress.

"Of course, I'm more than happy to answer your questions"

He's about three feet away from Jo now, close enough that Jo can see that his irises don't remain any one particular colour: the hues shifts and change, like a storm  in his eyes.

 Jo's breath hitches in her throat, and she finds herself unable to tear her gaze away.

"You used yourself as bait to gain intel on me, right? [ _Oh fuck, of course he would know]_ Aren't you cheeky, using my own strategies against me. Well Joanna, shoot. I'm not going to hurt you."

An expectant pause ensues. The music that had been playing before has long since stopped, and Jo can hear nothing but her own heartbeat.

_He can sense thoughts and emotions, remember? Jo. Mind. Clear your fucking mind._

Sam blinks, and the long- awaited covering of his ~~enigmatic~~   ~~mesmerizing~~ weird- as- fuck eyes helps Jo snap back to reality. Feeling quickly returns to her brain, and she feels her rage rekindled by stern memories of this Winchester's evils.

"Hah. And why the fuck would I trust you?" she hisses. She's not sure what is right to do: leave now and save herself the risk of being manipulated by this freak of nature, or stay and possibly gain valuable information for her cause?

Or stay and......

nononono no no no on on onon nono no no n oo n ono nono no nonononon ono nno no no no no

_CLEAR. YOUR. FUCKING. HEAD. GIRL._

"You shouldn't" Sam's countenance instantly shifts, and he turns his attention away from Jo.

He trails his index finger in the air to make the fallen ropes slither and squirm around like snakes, making it pretty clear that he's unimpressed with how boring her fist question turned out.

Jo grits her teeth with frustration.

"What the hell makes you think I'd want to join your crazy train anyways?" she snaps, leaning forward in her seat and glaring up at Sam's tall form before continuing,

"Because I don't. I'm not a twisted, evil fuck that wants to watch the world burn."

Sam is much more pleased with this course of conversation. He stalls movement of his rope snakes and studies Jo's face for a moment. Then bends down until their faces are on a level.

"Aren't you, though? What about that night in Albuquerque? Or Mrs. Yellin? And don't get me started on your dreams-- no reason to look shocked, sweetheart. Anyone that knows me also knows that I am very thorough in my research"

Of course, his words bring back dark memories of dark times, and the sick feelings of pleasure and excitement that go along with them. Jo squeezes her eyes shut and brings her hands to her chest, in an effort to ignore Sam's point. As her fingers hit her breasts, she feels something... hard.

Did they...forget..?

"I know how you feel, Jo. Living your whole life feeling like a freak, a reject of society no matter how hard you try to fit in, to help out"

Empathy is not a trait Jo would have attributed to Sam Winchester, and yet (in spite of herself) his soft words are striking several chords. Still indignant, Jo trails her fingers slowly along her chest as she listens.

"You don't want to believe that the world is shit. That people are still worth fighting for, that Hell is something you'll take upon yourself if it means that others don't have to suffer. Hey, don't give me that look. Just because I'm a bad egg doesn't mean I don't understand self sacrifice."

Right. Hell. He threw himself in Hell.

"But now your family is dead, and you think you're slipping. You try to keep normal, but you know deep down you're a fake. And you can feel your blood like fire in your veins. There's nothing that can stop you and that terrifies you"

"FUCK OFF. I'm nothing like you" Jo screams, because how could he know? how the fuck could he know.

"No. Of course not" Sam smiles gently, brushing a lock of hair from Jo's distraught face.

"You have a choice."

Their lips are inches apart now and there is nothing in the world that makes sense anymore. She's shuddering, bathed in her own sweat. Baptized by fear of....fear of herself.

Every word that drips out of his mouth is true, so fucking true. And Jo hates that. So she makes her choice.

Her mind is clear.

Jo looks Sam dead in the eyes, leans forward and

slips the blade of her knife into his chest.

***

[A few minutes earlier]

"Fuuuck me, I'm bored. Why does Winchesticle get to have all the fun?"

Meg and Samandriel are lounging in a hallway, waiting for Sam to hurry up and finish recruiting already. It's already been a decent while.

The demon is lying prostrate on a very filthy ground, her feet against the same wall Samandriel is leaning.

"I'm sure you'll get your share of fun if Sam can convince her to switch sides"

Meg lifts her legs up and props her feet against Samandriel's knees.

"Does it bother you? As an angel, I mean. That we're corrupting an innocent girl"

Samanadriel tugs at the laces of one of Meg's leather boots.

"Hardly innocent" he smirks, pulling the rest of the boot off.

"And angels.." the other boot falls off as well.

"...are not so holy as you might think."

Samandriel places the demon's legs to the ground and lowers himself between them.

"I used to think that we were fighting for God and humanity and virtue," the angel continues, taking Meg's hands and pulling her into a sitting position.

"But you know..Naomi and.." he pauses, his blue eyes suddenly clouded with painful memories.

Meg licks his neck playfully, snapping him back to their present shenanigans.

"Angels kill and maim and torture and lie. We're not much better than demons, but we like to claim a righteous cause."

Here, he has to take a break from speaking because Meg has thrust her hand down his pants.

"I like the way you think, fallen angel"

***

His irises, still a tempest of colour, brighten as the metal sinks into his flesh.

Jo lets out a gasp, suddenly overcome with a sensation she has never felt before.

Sam Winchester's body slumps forward, and Jo takes him into her arms. Without thinking.

She curls her fingers around one of his limp hands, and sits there, holding his bleeding form. Struggling to comprehend what just happened.

Murder.

So this is what it feels like?

She never thought it would feel so...

"Not quite yet, beautiful"

Jo looks down, a medley of relief and disappointment, horror and pleasure spinning through her newly forged heart.

His bloodied lips are twisted into a perfect smile.

"Not bad, though. Not bad at all. I'll take that as yes, then? Joanna..."

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! You're still reading, bless you!  
> Next chapters are going to be hopefully a lot more violent and sexual and action.  
> I hope the dialogue isn't too boring for you, or that this story is getting out of hand.
> 
> Please please comment, I love hearing from you!


	9. Sacrificial Lambs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff, Backstory, and two "Bonus" past tense smut sequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess it is high time I let you in on some backstory. Major plot holes, but that's the point.  
> Also, at the end I added two bonus smut pieces, the first Destiel and the second is Megstiel.  
> I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> oooh p.s., the backstory sequence is told by Meg (>) and Sam (>>)

"Oh, no wait I think get it,"

Meg plants one bare foot on Sam's chest and forces him back against the wall. The push causes the Winchester to cough up even more blood, all over everywhere.

"By getting her to shank your evil ass, you got her to abandon her humanity"

She wraps her fingers around the hilt of Jo's blade, but doesn't remove it just yet. She turns her head back to flash a sly grin at Jo, who is still a little struck by the turn of events.

"Glad you see the erotic value in stabbing Sinchester. Too bad the son of a bitch is immortal. But,"

She twists the knife a little, eliciting a hiss of pain from her fallen comrade, who isn't entirely sure why he's putting up with this.

"You're a hunter, aren't you? And Sammy here isn't exactly Human of the Year....or human"

Samandriel has joined the party now, moving straight to a trembling Jo. She doesn't recognize him at first, as she's staring at Meg and a bloodied Sam.

"Killing him makes it murder, but killing me or Angel Sammy would just be a hunt? How is that even a little bit fair?  Fuck, Winchester's a bigger freak than all of us"

The angel brushes his healing grace over Jo's wrists, which are chafed from the rope bindings.

"It's all about relating, Meg. They're actually quite similar, so in the act of killing Sam as a monster, Jo had to realize the monster within herself"

Jo is beginning to wonder if they know she can hear them.

This response takes Meg aback a little, long enough for Sam to grab her ankle, pull her down and put her in a choke hold with his right arm. He uses his free hand to pull the knife out of his chest: Christ, what a relief.

"Monster?" Meg asks with difficulty, as her windpipe is being crushed by Sam's bicep.

Samandriel lets go of Jo with an exasperated groan.

"Fuck, Meg, do you even listen to anything anyone says ever? Nevermind, I know you don't."

Samandriel lowers his voice to a frequency Jo cannot here.

"Her body doesn't reject demon blood either, you idiot, remember ?? [He returns to normal volume] Why did you think we were trying to recruit her?"

"I don't know" Meg snaps, trying to throw off Sam telekinetically, and failing miserably.

"She's a good fighter? And she's a total cutie, let's be re-kkkkkkkkkk" the demon's words are choked off by a flex in Sam's muscles.

A total......?

Samandriel turns back to Jo, whose eyes are still wide and scared.

"You don't have to stay with us, Jo" he says, angeling away a fleck of San's blood off her shirt.

"We don't need a Stockholm Syndrome case, is what he means" calls out Meg, who has managed to gain the upper hand by targeting Sam's weak spot (his French knees) and is currently wrestling Sam against the ground with her legs.

"Right. But you have things you want, and we have things we want. If we work together, we could really accomplish a lot"

Jo stares up at this angel that killed her friends, that lied his way through their ranks and blended in as one of them.

His eyes are coloured with memories of unimaginable pain. She wants to hate him, and she certainly cannot trust him.

She looks over at the epitome of evil, the Boy King of Hell, play fighting with his demon sister like a child.

She knows she cannot trust any of them.

And how can she betray those people who fought by her side, died by her side?

But...it's just...

The potential of power is running at her finger tips, the taste of freedom is slipping off her tongue.

"Alright. I'll hear you out. Talk to me"

***

"This is what happens," Dean yells, stabbing an angel that's advanced too close behind him.

"When you're planning a coup on heaven."

Castiel does not need to be told this, especially not from someone he's just seen wearing Star Trek boxers. He bends forward, flipping over the angel that's trying to choke him from behind, and knifes her in the chest.

That's four down, two to go. The stronger fighters, both move in on Castiel.

Dean chucks his borrowed angel blade from across the room, striking one dead while Castiel fights the other. Wings are flared and the fight is dirty, very close, but Dean just sits amongst the wreckage of shattered glass and angel corpses. He doesn't bother tagging in: Cas has got this.

And he does. Finally, the fight is over.

"Seriously, man. And where the hell are your allies? You've got have some other badass angels hidden away, otherwise you wouldn't be this cocky"

Castiel flashes Dean a dirty look as he wipes the blood off of his angel blade.

"I must be discreet as possible, as I cannot afford to reveal the identities of my followers until the time is right. That is why I need you by my side"

"And here I thought you wanted me for my perky nipples"

Castiel walks over Dean and helps him up off the ground.

"Your 'rugged good looks' certainly help, yes"

He pulls Dean in for a dirty kiss on the mouth, running his tongue along the exhunter's teeth. Then he grabs him by the shoulder and zaps them both away to a safer haven than the wreckage of this empty bar.

***

>"Faustian shit happens all the time, right? You humans are pretty desperate to get what you want"

>>"As a hunter, I'm sure you know all about how demons are all evil skanks. Pretty common knowledge"

>"The way it's supposed to work is, you sell your _own_ soul, right? You damn yourself to Hell because of a choice you made, all by yourself. That's how deals are supposed to go"

>>"Demons are like the worst kind of psychopath you can imagine. They lie, they steal, they kill and rape for fun. They don't have morals or buffers or anything that keeps them remotely human"

>"So like, thirty years ago or something, a spunky blonde lady hunter, regular Buffy type like you, called Mary Campbell had something she reeeally desperately wanted"

>>"But what most hunters don't realize is, anomalies do exist"

>"So naturally, she whored out her second born son to the nasty ass demon warlord, Azazel."

>>"A demon's just a demon. Except when she's got a little something extra"

>"Few years later, Mary had her little lamb. And by little lamb I mean she birthed a fucking antichrist"

>>"So there's this one particular demon, right? And for an assload of years, she was just your typical, run-of-the-mill dirty soldier demon. Black eyes, black soul, a lot of murder and sex and tequila shots"

>"The kid was already powerful beyond comprehension, for science and magic reasons I don't personally get. But Azazel  would sneak up to its crib and spoonfeed it demon bleed. A special sauce for only the most special kids, demon blood would burn out the veins of anyone else, pretty much"

>>"You wouldn't think twice about exorcising her sorry ass. But she does have a certain quality of loyalty and simple mindedness that you could almost find endearing"

>"Anyways, for some reason Mary was surprised when she found out the son she sold out to a demon was being cooked up to be a princling of Hell. So, as a good hunter, she tries to slaughter the damn infant. Thing is, the baby was already waaaay too OP. Mary goes up in flames, her husband John remarries a bottle of whiskey and drags his freak son and the other one into a family business of hunting monsters"

>>"This loyalty is highly prized, and she's taken in to help out on a top secret mission that I probably can't tell you about right now. But she sets her charred demonic heart on the task, ready to serve"

>"So the demonic lamb grows up feeling like an outcast, a complete freak set aside from the rest of society. He doesn't know what's wrong with him at the time, and tries his best to fake 'normal'"

>>"Unfortunately, a conflict arises, and our antiheroine comes across the angel equivalent of a sex bomb. He's not just hot, he's 'Praise the fucking Lord in Heaven Hallelujah" hot. I know, because my brother thought so too"

>"The archdouche Michael was becoming pretty powerful after a while. Kept trying to restart the Apocalypse, angel take over on Earth, you know how it was"

>>"This angel--Castiel, his name-- isn't exactly holier than thou, so it's not really that weird that they become sort of half friends. Frenemies, if you will. Something to do with an exploding pizza parlour and a mutilated horse statue-- I don't know the details."

>"Mikey boy kept trying to get inside the normal brother's ass--true vessel bullshit, don't know, don't care-- so our lamb thought he might purify himself by taking himself on as a sacrifice. He tricked Michael into possessing him instead and somehow chucked them both into a cage in Hell. Sounds like a lie, but I'm at least mostly sure it's true. Not sold on some of the details, though"

>>"She becomes smitten with him. A demon, falling for anyone in a non-stalker way is already weird. But for an angel? Ughhghh. Anyways, she sacrifices herself for the angel's life, or something lame like that, and gets sent straight back into the darkest pits of Hell"

>"A year or two went by, which is a dicktonne more in Hellyears. The lamb figured out the error of his ways. He got tortured by Mikey Mike for a pretty long time before his latent powers came up"

>>"She's tortured there by this total nob, Crowley, who thinks himself a businessman. He's on the opposing side of her cause, so he takes out his frustrations on her for a pretty long time"

>"The lamb finally managed to crawl his way out of Hell, after gaining unmatchable strength. He picked up an unlikely and crazy sexy demonic friend on his way out.

>>"Crazy sexy, more like crazy bitchy."

>"Fuck off, Winchester, I'm a babe. Anyways, he met up with his demon daddy, Azazel, who took him up as a son/ apprentice and together they set off for a Master Plan that we're probably not allowed to tell you about yet"

>>"The demon, she escapes after a while, and makes it back to the living realm with the help of someone waaaaay stronger than her and at least seven times cooler. Then she meets a hard ass sassy yellow eyes who takes her under his wing, or his tail or whatever 'Zazel has, I'm not sure."

>"The lamb then got into a pretty gross time in his life, where he dated this abominable demon bitch Ruby, who got him into demon blood and made him a kind of uber powerful sex toy. They did some mad weird BDSM shit, let me tell you. I like to thank Gosh and also Geez that they eventually broke up and let him focus on his plans"

>>"No matter what meatsuits the demon chooses, she still lacks the charm it takes to become a proper succubus and is forever bitter about it. So you should bring it up as much as possible"

>>>"And that's our stories up until now"

Sam and Meg smile expectantly at a wide eyed Jo, who still isn't 100% sure what's going on.

"W-what about Alf...Samandriel? How'd an angel get involved in your bullshit? Is he like that Castiel or..?"

The smiles fade away quickly, and the two exchange a hesitant glance at each other before turning to look at Samandriel, who is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

A long, tense silence ensues.

After a while, Samandriel lifts up his head and brushes what might be a tear trickling down his face.

"I learned the hard way that Heaven can be Hell"

***

***

[Bonus #1: Destiel First Time]

The night started out slow, air hot and heavy with old music and the scent of leather. They sat in that car, mumbling out the thoughts that festered within their chests and usually went unspoken. Whiskey trickled down their throats at steady pace and brought their faces closer together. Dean complained of heat and shed layer after layer of plaid and buttoned shirts. Castiel had no concept of temperature, but stripped his clothes off all the same.

It started out slow, with gentle stroking and fumbling hands. Alcohol tainted kisses. Back seat grinding while Bad Company hymned along on the cassette player.

Dean took a chance and clawed one finger down Castiel's exposed back, right between his wings. He drew blood, and in that instant Castiel was lit up with a flame of lust he never experienced before.

The angel flipped Dean over in an instant, biting the back of his neck until the hunter began moaning with pain and pleasure.

That was the first time they fucked, slick with sweat and grace and bloodied scratches, in the back of the Impala until her windows steamed up. Castiel pumping into Dean with angelic force, still never letting go of the hunter's erect cock. The position wasn't ideal, but Castiel could not get over the feeling of that wet head under his thumb, or the sounds Dean made when he tightly ran his hands down the shaft.

It would have been a perfect fuck. Unfortunately, a policeman just had to go on and suggest they relocate to a place that wasn't a mall parking lot. Since neither Castiel nor Dean were true killers at the time, they were forced to resume their unholy activities in a more private setting.

***

[Bonus #2: Megstiel First Time]

The "forbidden love" vibe their friendship gave off was the ultimate aphrodisiac. The sexual tension became so intense at times that Castiel sometimes had to shower himself in holy water to cool off, and Meg would do the same, to burn out any "clean" feelings she was experiencing.

They kept off banging each other's brains out for so long, that when the moment actually came, there were actual casualties.

What happened was, Castiel found himself in a half burning hospital for investigation purposes, only to encounter a very ... scantily clad Meg.

The demonness had been visiting the hospital for some murder purposes, when an enemy demonic faction decided to burn it to the ground. Her shirt and jeans caught fire, leaving her no choice but to strip herself of the conflagrated clothes. She was left with nothing but a black lace push up bra and banded red panties. Her meatsuit got chilly, so she hunted through the burnt wreckage until she found herself a nurses jacket. She bent down to brush off some dust from her knees, and when she stood up again, Castiel was checking out her ass.

They stared at eachother for about three seconds before Castiel shoved the demon against one of the walls that hadn't burnt down. One hand grabbed her hair forcefully, while the other slide down her waist and over her ass. He kissed her on the mouth, hard, and was delighted to discover this girl bit back.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, and Meg pressed her crotch forward, into Castiel's. The angel nipped her on the neck, the shoulders, the breasts. He ran his tongue down from her nape to the hem of her panties, all while Meg tugged at his hair.

Castiel then picked her up by the thighs and slammed her back harder into the wall. Meg hooked her legs around the angel, kicking his wings in the process, and somehow managed to slide off her bra.

The angel took this opportunity to lick the outline of Meg's breasts while she released him of the burden of his belt. He then proceeded to carry her to a nearby (very ashy) operating table, lay her down, and run his fingers along her already wet lips. He toyed with her clit for a while, until she was hissing with pleasure. Castiel then lifted his wings and raised himself on top of the writhing demon, grabbing her breasts and pushing right into her. Meg moved his hands to her neck, willing the halo boy to choke her a little as he rhythmically thrust into her with his cock. He throttled her with pleasure, smirking at every swipe of his abdomen she made with her nails.

Meg was about to try and overpower the soldier of heaven, when a small noise issued from a short distance away.

A very distraught firefighter was holding a hose in her hand from the ashen doorway. She had been under the impression that everyone had evacuated the premises.

Castiel was almost certain that His Father was trying to interfere with his sex life.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! Please let me know what you want, what you dislike, what you desire, what you hate, how you're feeling!


	10. Fool me Twice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst and Lessons and other things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut on today's menu, I am really sorry. A taste of Samandriel's history, quite a bit of angst, a little bit of torture. Be warned: today's chapter is not the greatest but it is out, and it can lead to more chapters in the near future.
> 
> Also be warned, I guess just know that if the mention of past "sexual slavery" is upsetting to you, there...is that. so uh.
> 
> Sorry about the long hiatus. I hope to write more frequent chapters from now on. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

A LESSON IN CAUTION

"Wait. Wait. Hold the fucking phone."

Meg's eyebrows are raised so high they're in danger of drifting off into the atmosphere. She slams her hand against the wall to emphasize her enraged incredulity.

" You're trying to tell me that YOU slept with goddamn motherfucking AGRAT??? "

Before poor Samandriel can reply, Sam whacks Meg in the back of the head, hard enough to send the demon choke on her own blood.

"Meg, fucking let him talk."

But alas. After a brief coughing fit that sprays the floor red, Meg continues not fucking letting Samandriel talk.

"I knew he wasn't a total virgin-"

"What gave it away, Meg? Was it the fact that he was a top tier angelic sex slave for a few millennia, or was it when you were riding his massive (really, not a bad vessel there, Sammy2) cock that you figured that out?"

"Damnit, Winchester, his aura is too clean for AGRAT BAT MAHLAT. At this point I'm the only one who hasn't gotten squicky with a succubus- oh shit wait no-"

"OOOOOOOOOOH IS THAT SO YOU ARE JEALOUS????"

The bickering escalates into a full blown war. Jo has to duck to narrowly avoid the knives being chucked through the air.

Without blinking an eye, Samandriel gently taps the (former) hunter on the shoulder and transports them both to the safety of the outdoors.

It's awkward now, in the early greyness of the cloudy morning. They stand by eachother quietly, not speaking.

Hearing Meg and Sam Winchester's pasts didn't do a whole lot for Jo besides question the nature of their relationship.

Hearing Samandriel's past.....

Jo frowns.  

He's clearly teamed up with those two erratic hellspawn for revenge. She's not sure what kind of "master plan" is afoot here, but after all the messed up shit the angels did (and let be done) to Samandriel's mind and body... if it was Jo, she'd want an ocean of blood.

Still, he seems so docile and sweet...it's easy to forget Samandriel was the one who killed Jo's comrades. But it was out of necessity, not sport...right? He's just doing what he has to.

Is there really an evil side to him at all? Or is he just broken?

And aren't those just questions Jo is asking herself?

Jo opens her mouth to speak, but feels her voice cut short. She looks up to see a strange sort of expression on Samandriel's face.

The corners of his mouth are twisted up in a smile that sends a chill rush of fear through Jo's spine.

"Make no mistake, Joanna,"

His voice is so soft that Jo has to hold her breath to hear him.

"I'm far more dangerous than those two combined. To you, especially. "

He sighs a little, and flicks his eyes up towards the sky.

"I never got to tell you how I fell."

Jo  shakes her head, still unable to find her voice. He'd only gotten so far as to tell the story of his... graphic mistreatment at the hands of the elite angels. Used as bait or bribe, or more often, as an assassin. Tortured mercilessly and stripped of his will.

"So you don't really know anything about me, at all."

He's still staring up at the grey clouds, still smiling that sinister smile.

"Careful, Jo. I fooled you once, that's shame on me. You keep thinking thoughts like that, I'll have to cut you down. Oh, and Jo?"

Murmurs the fallen angel with hellfire in his eyes: "You ever get in my way...

you're dead."

***

Dean is bored.

Castiel has to run some 'business' errands, which means Dean is alone in this oversized hotel room.

To be fair, it's a pretty sweet suite. Heh.

 Mini bar. Peanuts. _Dean_ sized bed (if you know what he means *winkwink*). Those little shampoo bottles with scents like "ginger honey" or "earthbody lilac river". Huge ass t.v. Towels that feel like a thousand kittens.

With nothing better to do, Dean strips off his clothes and climbs into the large, pearly sheened bath tub. He exhales sleepily (why Castiel insisted on morning sex before zapping off to whatever political crap he's up to this time is beyond Dean) and lets the hot water run and run and run until he's completely immersed. Like a large Dean dumpling.

The Winchester is just about on the edge of yet another sleep. Every muscle relaxes, every worry floats away and

He grabs his pistol off the window sill with expert speed, and is out of the bath before you can say Ass-Naked Dean Winchester: Armed and Unimpressed.

Intruder?

***

A LESSON IN TORTURE

"I don't...know if I can do this."

The Unholy Trinity may have opened Jo's eyes to the darkness that has been growing within her, but so far her presence in their group has been about "discovering her true self". Jo still doesn't know anything about their 'master plan', nor does she have any reason to think she'll join in.

So this hands on crap is getting a little weird.

 "You don't _have_ to do anything. But you will. See:

> **Winchester, Sam.**

"Sinchester likes to torture 'cause of the raging power boner he gets. I hate to admit it but he's basically a demonic puppet master. And the most delicious way to control us children of Hell is through pain. Which is why we usually let him deal with hellspawn."

Species: ???? Boy King of Hell YEAH

Preferred victims: demons

Preferred method of torture: ~~Crazy Sexy~~ Psychic Powers

Example:

Sam's grin is wide and bloody. Two demons, unrestrained, lie crumpled at his feet. One has been drained of so much blood that it can't even put up a fight. The other is still seizing with pain as Sam drags her nasty ass soul through hellfire. He then takes a pause to smash her body into the nearest wall, cinching every demonic nerve as she makes impact with the bricks.

Her screams rattle through Jo's bones, but the former hunter's never seen anything so strange and intriguing before.

His power really is incredible.

Jo watches the man who she once deemed enemy clench his fist to elicit an especially blood-curdling cry of pain. He's really enjoying himself, but he takes a pause to flash Jo an awkward grin.

"You want to take over?"

"But I don't have....superpowers"

"Yeah, soon."

"What?"

"What? I mean, grab some holy water and that knife--no, not the butter knife, Jo , that's for butter. The dagger with the Egyptian--there you go. Now just drag it across her neck like so--yeah, yeah you're doing good--nice! okay but oh, no, Jo, too deep you're too...and she's dead. That's a dead informant. I probably should have told you this is a demon-killing knife.. No, oh, hey don't get upset, it's okay. We all killed witnesses on our first day, you just have to try again. Here."

> **Masters, Meg**

" Meg? Meg reeeeally likes to fuck with her food before she eats it. Demons and their gore fetishes, honestly. But yeah, to be fair, she's had the best training."

"What can I say, the sound of hunters screaming for mercy gets my meatsuit all soggy"

"Real hot mental image, Meg. It's a real mystery why you can't get any action besides emotionally crippled angels and horny, misguided witches."

Species: demon

Preferred victims: human

Preferred methods of torture: anything, really, scalpels and thumbscrews and maidens..but good old fashioned bare hands is always a good way to go.

Example:

"Meg I've already watched you torture Sam, I really don't think this is nec-"

"Shut it, Harvelle. That prick has got a level 5000 tolerance. Besides, 'Zazel said I wasn't allowed to work my A game on Winchester, on account that he's King or whatever. Let me show you how we do it in the Pit."

[several minutes later]

"MEG WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK MEG NO PLEASE PUT THE SPLEEN BACK JESUS CHRIST"

"Calm down, huntress, and pass me the fishhooks. Now, this part here might get a little weird..."

> **Samandriel**

"Heh. You wouldn't think to look at him, but he can get scary into torture."

Sam nods assent.

"Samandriel's definitely the most artistic."

"It's why we sic  him on our most dangerous enemies."

"I rock at least a semi pretty much every time I watch him go at it"

Species: Angel

Preferred victims: Angels

Preferred method of torture: Angel blade, holy fire, pure unadulterated rage.

Example:

"Wait a few days, scout. Then you'll see our boy in action."

***

"Cas, baby, what a surprise!"

"Hello, Balthazar."

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your delicious company, today?"

"I think you know."

"Ahhh. Yes, I suppose I do."

***

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, tell me if you liked this or didn't like it or any tips or requests.
> 
> Second, am I allowed to get more explicit when talking about Samandriel's past?? I'd like to, but if it would make you uncomfortable I could censor it a lot more.
> 
> Let me know, lovelies.


	11. willkommen bienvenue welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THREE NEW CHARACTERS I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!!!!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO SMUT AGAIN!!! BOoo happypancreas. I'm so sorry, I am drowning in midterms and this was the best I could do. Really hope you still enjoy this chapter, and sorry again for the delay

"Security....huh."

Dean rubs his eye with the back of his palm and sits back onto the hotel bed, trying to sort out what his exact feelings are at the moment.

Resentment? Irritation?

"What, so Cas doesn't trust me enough to fucking protect myself, is that it?"

The small redhead leaning against the wall across from Dean shakes her head a little, anxiously picking at the holes in her badly torn shirt ( a direct result of Dean plugging 7 bullets into her chest).

"The revolutionary army is getting pretty powerful, so Heaven's in hardcore mode. Even if you are.... _the_  Dean Winchester...heh...I think he's just.."

Dean's heart skips a beat. Endearment?

"Worried about you."

Screw that. Castiel is anything but sweet. Annoyance, anger.

"Yeah, well, he could have at least told me he was setting little orphan Anna to babysit my ass."

 The angel laughs sheepishly.

"You were never really supposed to know. He said you'd be mad if you found out he'd set up a guard for your safety."

"Damn right I'm mad. Treating me like some fragile fucking flower, who does he think he is...But you're an angel, shouldn't you be better at hiding your presence? What, were ya too busy trying to sneak a peek at my gloriously wet body..?"

"And incur the wrath of Castiel? No thanks."

The hell is that supposed to mean?

"I'm just learning to be a good soldier again, is all."

Dean studies his adorable bodyguard with wary eyes. If she were working for the current Heavenly regime, there would be at least one corpse on this hotel floor by now.  So he'll trust her for now. She seems a little awkward, but Castiel wouldn't just throw any mook into duty, so at least Dean knows this Anael character is a good fighter.

Seriously, though, talk about overprotective. Cas's dom complex is getting way out of hand.

Well, whatever.

Wait. "That reminds me,"

Dean points to the white walls of the room, adorned with only avant-garde, ambient art pieces and a large mirror.

"If I'm in such a risk right now, why haven't you sigiled the walls or whatever? I didn't think I needed to, but shouldn't we have angel proofing?"

"Well, for one thing, Castiel branded your ribs far more effectively than any half-assed spray painting job could do. And second, "

A blade unlike any Dean has seen before slips into Anael's tiny hand. It's much longer than the standard issue Heavenly weapon, almost like an actual sword. A formidable presence surrounds its wielder, and her eyes are suddenly burning with light and power.

"We do have angel proofing. No one will be getting through that door any time soon"

............damn.

***

The blade slips out of his hand and Samandriel staggers to the nearest wall for support. His hands are sticky with blood and residual grace and the charred remains of his so-called kinsman.

Sweet mother of ...

"That was...fucking amazing"

Jo is gushing, eyes all sparkly and face glowing with the awakening of her true calling. She runs over to Samandriel, and helps him slowly sink to the ground, clutching at his dirtied fingers.

"You see, Jo,"

Sam smiles, much like how he imagines a proud parental figure would (indeed, the only reference Sam has for fatherly praise would be Azazel cooing over well executed executions and the like)

"Only with us can you release your full potential."

What a delightful sight, a former hunter enamored by the sadistic fallen angel that murdered her comrades. Both so innocent, and yet so naturally corrupted.

But to his right, Sam sees an even more delightful sight.

He leans down and murmurs, so only Meg can hear:

"Jealous?"

"Go fuck yourself."

***

She puts a cigarette between her lips, lights it with a snap of her fingers. A small puff, then a long drag. As always, she exhales out the corner of her mouth.

"Is that so?"

The filter is already stained red with lipstick.

"You told me to let you know if anything weird came up and ...well, it doesn't seem to be super secret or anything. But they've got Azazel's full support on this, so (withallduerespectma'am) if you're gonna fuck around...

..Just be careful"

Grin.

"I wouldn't dream of getting in the way of darling old yellow eyes. We're allies in war, after all."

A flick of the thumb is sufficient to send the cigarette ashes scattering.

"Yeah, whatever you say, Rub--er, ma'am. You've clearly got the kind of power to get away with screwing with our Boy King, nothing a lowly messenger like me can do about it."

Smoke curls around her lips, her fingers.

Ruby takes another drag.

Hah. What a charming little devil. Always playing the part of the modest, righteous foot soldier, when his potential is clearly so much more than that. Special Commander Lilith has been harping on her to appoint something like a confidant...Oh, and his tastes in meatsuits is....hnnnn.

"You're not busy, are you? How would you like to perform a location spell with me?"

"So you're still going to stalk your ex, ma'am? Sounds creepy, I'm in."

***

"So Cassy, now that we're through with those dreadfully dull battleplans.."

Balthazar crosses his legs and rests his hand against his knee, all the while toying with the stem of a crystal wine glass.

"I should be off. Thank you for your cooperation."

"Ahh, not even going to stay the night? What a pity. I suppose I only have that rude (albeit qhite pretty) hunter to blame...Well, I was going to have to talk to you about that anyways. You need to watch yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh please, Cassy. I think you know what the problem here is: No one puts that much effort into a side bang. (And please don't tell me you're actually entertaining the idea of _monogamy_ of all dreadful things)-"

"I assure you, Balthazar, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're really going along with this, then? Dean Winchester. Why appoint a hunter as an aide de campe slash 24/7 booty call? I don't care how many angels he's killed, there's no reason why you would have had to drag him so deep into the war in Heaven if you didn't have a really good reason."

"We have mutual interests-"

"The rebellion was getting along just fine without him, wasn't it? And yet here he is, with an elite guard protecting him from our less  favourable brothers and sisters."

"How do you-??"

"Because I do my damn job. Listen, I'm not here to judge your taste in humans or whatever. But if I can put two and two together, then it won't be long before someone else does. Dean Winchester is your weakness. I'm not saying you need to get rid of him, but keep in mind that you have to be more careful."

Castiel bites his lip, hard.

"Is Anael going to protect him or she going to draw attention to the fact that he's something to be protected? What happens if you have to choose between him and the rebellion? What happens if the enemy finds out just how much of a liability he can be?"

"I don't-"

"I'm just saying. So sit down. Have a drink. You're a sick son of a bitch, I'm sure you'll find a way to make everything work.

"...right"

***

"Oh fuck me"

Sam's face is contorted in a wince of pain as he gingerly begins massaging his temples.

"What, you already need a refill of humanjuice?" Meg smirks, tilting a bottle of gin up and draining half of it in one horrifying swig.

Jo still doesn't understand half of what these people say, ever, but there never seems to be a dull moment. She looks over at  a halfdead Samandriel, who is still emotionally drained from the award-worthy torture he performed earlier today.

Don't....reach out ....to touch his hair...

"My, my, Lucy sure is taking a toll on your sorry ass"

Lucy?

"Lucifer can suck my dick"

Lucifer????

"I'm sure he'd love to."

Love to..???

"Ugh, that was too easy. No, it's not just that,"

Sam looks up with an expression so grave that even Meg stops smiling.

" I can also feel her looking for me."

Meg sits up abruptly, clutching her empty liquor bottle so hard it shatters.

"Don't tell me.."                                                                                   

Sam nods painfully.

"She'll be here soon. Goddamn fucking former witches and their goddamn spell casting. Really, I have to admit her timing is-FUCKK"

Sam's hands are shaking and his breathing has gone considerably more ragged in the past few minutes.

"What...what's wrong?"

Jo asks (with concern she never thought she'd feel over the abomination that is Sam Winchester).

"Demon..blood."

"Um.. it boosts his powers, right?"

Jo has only vaguely heard about the youngest Winchester's blood fetish or whatever, from various rumours of hunters in the past, as well as that one storytelling time and snide remarks from Camp Meg. (Vampire jokes etc, nothing substantial).

Samandriel shakes his head.

"Not quite."

Actually, on his own, Sam's powers don't need any demon blood at all. But Jo doesn't need to know that yet.

"OH FUCK. THE BITCH IS ON THE MOVE"

Meg pulls out so many weapons out of nowhere so fast that Jo can't help but wonder if the demon has a magical arsenal in the pocket of her leather jacket.

In contrast to the frantic hellspawn, Samandriel sleepily crawls over closer to Jo and rests his head on the back of the bed.

"Mmmmmm Jo you are in for a fucking treat."

"What the hell, Samandriel? What is going on? What's wrong with Sam? Who is coming? What is goin-"

"Shhhshhhhhhh"

The angel puts a finger to her lips.

"Don't worry about Sam's migraines right now, all in due time...for now, just..."

"Samandriel..."

 "I know I know"

Jo feels an unsettling sensation as she looks at Samandriel's smile. It's the same smile that sometimes appears on Meg or Winchester's faces when shit is about to hit the fan.

"Listen, she'll almost definitely harass you, but it'll be worth it.."

"Huh!?"

"So worth it. You've never seen what happens you put Ruby, Meg, and Sam Winchester all in one room together....quality entertainment, Jo. Ah, here she comes! This is going to be so, so good..."

Earlier, Samandriel's evil side had practically been a turn on, but now...the sinister gleam in his eyes and the sadistic grin on his face  as he awaits this daunting, inevitable battle...Jo is truly afraid.

***

_"Please allow me to introduce myself,"_

_"SHUT UP"_

_"I'm a man of wealth and taste"_

_"None of what you just said is accurate.."_

_"I've been around for a long-"_

_"You've been around for too long. Enough Stones already, Christ."_

_"Then find me a vessel."_

_"Find yourself a vessel you lazy ass piece of shit archangel. And get out of my head, you useless freeloader"_

_"What about that cute new blonde you recruited..her body can handle demon blood, can't it? Just like you.."_

_"I think I'll spare her the suffering of having to deal with you..."_

_"Aww, Sammy, I'm hurt. But also aroused by your unexpected compassionate side! Could it be you actually care about that itty bitty hunter..???"_

_"Fucking Christ, you're so annoying.."_

_"Hey. Don't talk about my brother like that."_

_"Oh, shut up."_

_............._

_"Hey, Sammy?"_

_"WHat?! I'm a little busy at the moment"_

_"Trying to deal with that delicious Ruby of yours, eh?"_

_"Yeah, and with this fucking migraine you're giving me. You do realize what a toll my body is taking from hosting you."_

_"I'm not apologizing."_

_"There's a surprise."_

_"........but for real. IF you need a little help-"_

_"I don't need any help from you,_ THANKS THOUGH"

_"Fine, fine. Sheesh, you're such a hardass. Pass out for all I care."_

_"Yeah, yeah. You done?"_

_"I'll be quiet"_

_"Atta boy, Lucifer."_

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think please please pelase pelaselase pelase pel aeale epal , ea


	12. Meg Backwards Spells Gem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing too much, just some demon antics. No torture, no sex, no blood, no gore. HOW UNUSUAL!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. I have no idea if anyone here is still into this, it's been a long time since I've updated anything holy.
> 
> I don't even watch spn anymore, I'm not caught up at all. Recently I found this unfinished extra chapter in my writing folder and I thought to myself, why don't I post this ?
> 
> So here you have it, not sure I can promise when I'll post another one but !!! I hope you enjoy it :)

Somewhere in the background, the melodious tones of a classical violin have begun playing.

"Oho. Well well well. If it isn't Ruby.."

Meg notes in an affected, mocking tone, raising a crystal glass to her lips to take a delicate sip of pinot blanc. 

"Ahh, what an unexpected pleasure",

Sam chimes in, casually adjusting the pearl cufflinks of his suit jacket. The Boy King and the demon girl exchange brief, knowing glance: for all their bratty fighting and abusive language, these two sure get along.

Meanwhile, Jo is trying (and failing) to figure out just what the fuck is going on.

Only ten minutes ago, the Sam squad was in a dirty ass motel room, panicking in hellspeak. Something about 'her' and 'Lucy'... honestly do these people even try to include Jo in anything?

And then there's Samandriel, who smacked Jo on the shoulder without warning and angel-transporting them all to what appears to be the executive suite of a very expensive hotel. Judging from the view from the balcony, they must be around the fourteenth floor. 

This confusion aside, the real mystery to Jo is how Meg and Sam managed to change out of their respective leathers and plaids into semi-decent formalwear. Meg in particular really cleans up nice...

"Mature as ever, I see",

The drawling voice belongs to the woman leaning in the doorway. Small and dark haired... dressed in all black, full lips leering, eyes completely beetle-black.   
Now if Jo was a betting man (and she's not), she'd wager a guess that this saucy little number of a demon is the infamous Ruby. Even with her fledgling supernatural senses, Jo can tell that this former witch (of whom she's heard oh so much about) is very, very, shit like super really powerful. Maybe...even more than Meg.

Eugh. What an unfortunate and scary thought.

"You changed your location so fast I thought you were trying to give me the slip."

She has a faint lisp, and Jo isn't sure if this adds or takes away from the murderous undertones in the woman's voice.

"Who?"

Sam presses a hand to his chest, his face contorted hurt from being suspected of avoiding Ruby's presence, though upon closer inspection anyone can see that he's stabbing a fork into his thigh.

"Us?"

Meg pouts and blinks prettily, though her intent to kill is emanating so strongly that, several stories down a mafioso completely unrelated to this supernatural gathering locks himself in the bathroom with a fully loaded pistol.

The demon picks up a cigar from the tray on the table, and Sam leans forward to light it with a snap of his fingers. Yeah, they're really enjoying pretending to be classy.  
"Such children,"

Ruby rolls her eyes, and takes a step further into the room. She scans the rest of the room until her eyes meet Jo's, which, needless to say, somewhat startles the young ex-hunter. She finds herself unable to look away...

Ruby licks her lips and begins to make her way across the thick, soft carpet.

"And it's so rude, Sam, for you to keep this mouthwatering little treasure all to yourself. Jo, is it ?"

Jo's heart nearly stops. Honestly, damn. 

Ruby's aura is a lot more elegant and formidable than Meg and Sam made it out.....her lips so.......they look so soft, and....bewitching.....somehow, it's really no wonder that Sam.....the curve of her-

"AaaOW!"

Jo rubs the back of her neck and glares sheepishly at Samandriel. Leave it to the literal angel on her shoulder to keep her from being ensnared by this stray succubus.

"Th-thanks.."

Samandriel nods no problem, but Ruby doesn't look too impressed at all.

"Ah. Of course, how could I forget Heaven's lost property is on your...quaint little family. Relax, I'm not going to seduce your pet. I just wanted to test my charms on her a little. Really, a bit overprotective over a mere hunter, aren't we ?"

Samandriel literally turns his head away to pointedly ignore Ruby, so the demonness has no choice but to maintain composure and turn back to bullying Sam.

"What is she... 16? Just about the age you were when you stumbled into my lap, isn't that right, Sammy?"

A blood vessel around Sam's temple pulses dangerously. Meg is still lounging by the window sill with a seemingly nonchalant air, though a trained eye might be able to note a distinct raise of the eyebrows. Her smile so far remains calm and unaffected.

Jo is about to get indignant over the slight error in Ruby's estimation of her age, but suddenly..

A frightening thought occurs.

With intense speed worthy of a hunter, she grabs the collar of Samandriel's jacket and pulls the angel in closer, so that her lips are right on the edge of his earlobe.

"Sixteen?" 

she hisses, still in considerable shock.

"Sixteen?? Doesn't that mean-??"

"Yes,"

Samandriel shifts back a little to respond.

"Sam was only 15 years old when he confined himself to Hell, after all."

How.....

"But Cassie was telling me her father used to hunt with Sam Winchester...back when Sam was 'human'...."

Samandriel makes a sound almost like a giggle.

"Sam? Human?? Well, his powers certainly did help him pull off a 'genius hunter' image at an early age."

"Wait, wait. Waaait. A prodigy? He was a teenaged prodigy? Are you shitting me?"

Samandriel is not shitting anyone.

So.. Sam Winchester not only survived the deepest depths of the underworld and crawled out as a Boy King, but prior to that he was also a literal savant of a hunter... his accomplishments to date are vast and ever-expanding....how the fuck is anyone supposed to catch up to that kind of a role model?

Oh, whoah. Sure. Jo can admit she's kind of started to maybe a little bit look...up.....to the Boy King...like a lot, but this is just ridiculous. Isn't he annoyingly good at everything?   
Plus he's not exactly bad-looking...the shithead, does he even have any weaknesses???? 

Overlapping Jo's frantic thoughts is a wickedly demure voice saying:

"~~And we had so much fun the other night, didn't we, Sammy?"

Oh yeah. Right. There it is, Sam's weakness.

Well, Jo can't blame him. That Ruby lady is sexy as all hell, no pun intended... okay, some pun intended.

Wait. Hold on. Something's not right... sixtee-

"SIXTEEN? THAT'S WAY TOO YOUNG TO BE DOING --ah."

Everyone's turned to stare. Perhaps she shouldn't have raised her voice.

"To do....what, Jo? Finish your sentence."

"Wahh, uhh..." 

Jo flushes, awkwardly fidgeting with her fingers. Way to put her on the spot.

"Don't say 'the do' "   
Samandriel whispers into her ear.

"I wasn't going to-- Jesus fuck, Samandriel"

"Hey, now, don't use my brother's name like that"

"Oh my-- uugggh. Look."

Jo clears her throat and gestures to Ruby, who doesn't seem to understand how far off her expectations this conversation has derailed.

"With all due respect uhh...ma'am.."

(Ruby raises her eyebrows in surprise; Meg chokes on her champagne.)

"You uhh...shouldn't be ...what are you like, 500? When he was 16? I don't like to judge but..."

"You realize I'm a demon, right?"

"............................................yeah. yes. Yeahs. Okay. Carry on."

With a sigh, Jo relaxes her body, slumping against Samandriel's arm for support.

A lot of dangerous things have been happening lately, but they aren't as scary as they are fun. Even now, with everyone's attention diverted from her, she can watch all sorts of fun things, like Meg pulling a demon-blade out of her cleavage (looks like her patience is at its limit), or Sam flipping Ruby off whenever she turns her back on him

Somehow, compared to when Jo was still just a hunter..... she's been having. Well.

Fun.

**Author's Note:**

> COMMENT DO ET I DARE YOU  
> also there will be sexy times later and I'll keep updating my tags don't you fret my pretties  
> all will be well  
> lmao if anyone even reads this  
> whoot!


End file.
